


crushcrushcrush drabbles

by queenhomeslice



Series: crushcrushcrush [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Accidental Voyeurism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Crush, Awkwardness, Ballroom Dancing, Bars and Pubs, Bisexual Cindy Aurum, Bisexual Gladiolus Amicitia, Body Image, Broken Bones, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Sex, Consensual Infidelity, Cowgirl Position, Crush at First Sight, Embarrassment, Established Relationship, F/M, First Meetings, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Humor, Food Kink, Galdin Quay (Final Fantasy XV), Heart Attacks, Heavy Angst, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Internalized Fatshaming, Junkyards, Light Angst, Loss of Virginity, Magic-Users, Making Out, Married Characters, Massage, Mechanics, Menstrual Cycle, Military Training, Minor Violence, Miscommunication, Motorcycles, Multi, Mutual Pining, Noctis is a Little Shit (tm), One Night Stands, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Pining, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Prom, Prompto is a Human Disaster (tm), Public Hand Jobs, Reader Loves Prompto Argentum, Reader-Insert, Scarification, School Dances, Self-Esteem Issues, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in a Car, Sharing Clothes, Sleep talking, Sleepovers, Sparring, Teen Crush, Tent Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Underage Drinking, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, White Day, World of Ruin, fat reader, female period, implied bisexuality/questioning sexual identity, plus size reader, stretch marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-03-13 05:35:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 95,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18934519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: A series of one-shots set in the crushcrushcrush universe*Not in chronological order*This is just to fill in gaps or to flesh out ideas that have come to me after I’ve written chapters that are set in stone.Title of "crushcrushcrush" and subsequent lyrics belong to the band Paramore._____________Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.





	1. Nothing Compares to A Quiet Evening Alone

“There’s no way in hell you’re getting me to show this bathing suit with this many people around,” you whined, burying your toes in the sand, trying to steel yourself against Prompto’s strong grip that was pulling you forward towards the ocean.  

“Aw, but! Come  _on_ ,” Prompto whined. “You look so cute! I want other people to see how cute you are and be jealous.” 

“All they’re gonna see is a beached whale,” you huffed, gripping your one free hand around the edge of the airy cover-up.  

“Dude,” said Prompto, voice suddenly stern. “You know I hate when you talk about yourself like that.” 

“Well it’s true,” you said, face flushed and eyes darting down towards the suddenly-interesting beach.  

“This is  _so_ not fair.” Prompto pouted. “You won’t even let your boyfriend see you in a bathing suit.” 

“You  _have_ seen me in a bathing suit. I just don’t want  _other_ people seeing me in a bathing suit.” 

“Who’s gonna care? Seriously? You're with us, and you already have me. Who else are you trying to impress?” 

You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to argue, but you knew that Prompto was right. You already had him, the man of your dreams, brought together by impossible circumstance, confessions made in the middle of the night in the campsite across the road from Hammerhead. It hadn’t changed much, actually; the comradery between the five of you, the stupid inside jokes, the friendly touches. Except, in private, those touches had become something so much  _more_ , promises of future physical contact as soon as you were ready, and Prompto wasn’t subtle about telling you how hot you got him, how he got off in the shower in anticipation of having sex with you, the desperate make-out sessions that found his hands under your shirt and your hand on the front of his boxers, getting the feel of his manhood throbbing under your delicate touch. It was all a coil that was too-tightly wound, and you wondered when you’d be the one to snap and break.  

You looked back around at Galdin Quay. Noctis was fishing off the pier in the distance, Gladio ever-watchful beside him, sitting on the ice chest with a book in hand. Ignis was out and about around the resort, picking up ingredients, restocking potions, and no doubt trying to find more information about the passage embargo to and from Altissia...  _A man of no consequence_ —and probably trying to find out more about that mysterious man who’d warned you about the ferries, tossing a commemoration coin at Noctis as he’d walked away. And then there was you and Prompto, the blond dressed only in swim trunks and his right-wrist bracelet but coated in about five layers of SPF 100, pale skin and brown freckles glistening in the early afternoon sun. There were mostly families out on the beach, parents watching their kids splash around near the shore, a few older teenagers and young adults on rafts out further in the ocean. Surely no one was really going to be paying attention to you, right? You sighed and turned back to Prom, his blue eyes still narrowed in concern, pleading silently. You shook your hand free.  

“Okay, okay. Just, hang on. And don’t laugh.” You pulled the breezy cover-up tunic over your head, revealing a black swim tank top and short swim shorts that rested on your upper thighs, legs and shoulders and upper chest and back now exposed to the world. You shivered despite the warmth.  

The blush started from Prompto’s belly button all the way up to the tops of his ears as he wracked his gaze over you, once, twice, three times before swallowing with an audible  _gulp_. “Astrals, ___________, I—fuck,” he groaned.  

“That bad, huh?” You sighed and bent to put the tunic back on.  

“No.” Prompto’s voice was firm, and you knew that look in his eye. “You’re beautiful. Please. Come into the water with me.” 

And so you did, holding his hand as you stepped into the glistening blue ocean. It wasn’t your first time at GaLdin—your high school spring break trip had taken care of that travel detail—but it was your first time with only the five of you, Noctis and his Crownsguard; the first time, as everything from here on out was bound to be, being  _here_ with Prompto as not just your friend and longtime crush but as a  _romantic partner_.  

The two of you waded out into the water until your feet were barely touching, and Prompto scooped you up in his arms and held you close as bobbed around in the deep water. You sighed against his bare skin and circled your arms around his neck, reveling in the feeling of being held. Prompto gripped you tighter and you began to push salty, wet, open-mouth kisses along his neck and down to his collarbones.  

Prompto let out soft little moans as you continued. “___________,” he breathed. “I love your mouth on me.” 

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks and you paused, hovering over a patch of pale freckled skin between his neck and shoulder. Smiling, you opened your mouth a little wider and bit down, gently—not enough to break skin, but enough to leave a temporary red mark. You drew back as you admired your handiwork, turning to look up at Prompto.  

Your freckled blond sunshine was frozen in place, body shaking as he held you just under the ocean’s surface. His whole chest and face were a deep red, mouth slack and breathing ragged, blue eyes barely visible around dilated pupils.  

“Eos to Prompto,” you said gently.  

He met your gaze and licked his lips. “I...I...” he stammered.  

“You okay?” 

“More...more than okay,” he squeaked.  

“Do you want me to stop?” 

Prompto shook his head wildly. “I don’t, but...if you keep doing that...” He sank lower in the water and turned his head to the side, embarrassed.  

You raised an eyebrow and brought one hand down from his neck and reached down to his stomach, and lower, and... _oh._ He was hard, painfully so, and you hated yourself for denying him when you wanted him so, so badly, in a thousand different ways. There were only so many ways to get each other off with clothes on. You squeezed your hand gently and Prompto hissed, biting his lip. You kissed his neck, and then bit him again. “Is there somewhere we can go?” 

Prompto looked around, darting his eyes here and there quickly, finally settling on the empty, dark spot below the nearby pier. “The...the pier looks deserted...” 

You nodded and Prompto released you, diving under the water and surfacing several seconds later as he swam parallel to the shore. Grinning, you followed.  

 

Prompto pulled his oversize beach towel from the Armiger and spread it on the cool sand, shivering in the damp stillness of the underside of the wooden structure. He could barely hear Noct and Gladio’s idle conversation at the end, even saw the glint of Noct’s thin fishing line far-out beyond the pier. Turning his attention back to you, sat down and pulled a couple of towels from their stash. His face flushed with embarrassment again as he watched you dry off and lie down on the towel, covering yourself with the other one.  

“Come here, Prompto.” 

Your boyfriend nodded and quickly dried himself, shaking off sand and coming to lie beside you, facing your front. He pulled you into a deep kiss, hands framing your face as your fingers wandered from the tips of his ears down his neck, lightly, ghosting along the lean muscle of his shoulders and arms, finally settling on his hips. You rubbed your fingers in light, loving circles on his skin, smiling against his mouth as you traced along the faded silvery stretch marks around his abs.  

Prompto moaned into your mouth as you touched him, finally grabbing you and bringing you flush against him, hiking one leg up and over his hip, grinding his clothed erection against you. 

“Fuck, Prompto,” you breathed into his mouth. “You’re so...fucking hot...” 

He chuckled nervously, breaking the kiss. “Part of me still can’t believe this is real,” he whispered. “I remember, when we were in high school, I talked to Noct about you  _so_  much. I feel so stupid for not realizing my feelings earlier.” 

You reached down and palmed him through his swim trunks, earning another low growl as he bucked into your hand. “Oh yeah? What did you say?” 

“Fu-fuck,” he breathed. “I...I just talked about how much I admired you, how pretty I thought you were, and your...your curves.  _Man_.” Prompto stared you in the eye.  

“Really? You...you talked about my body?” 

“Ye-yeah,” Prompto chuckled nervously. “You know, I punched a lot of kids after school on your account. Ones that I heard talking about you behind your back.” 

“You’re serious.” 

“Yeah, ask Noct.” 

“So  _that’s_ why you were in detention so much. You idiot,” you laughed, feeling tears start to form. “And you told me it was from always being short on your lunch account.” 

“Well, I mean, I was afraid to tell you. Noct and Iggy knew, I mean I guess that’s why it never elevated to a suspension, but. Yeah. I...I was just so angry at them.” 

“Prompto.” You brought both hands up to cup his face, leaning your forehead against his. “Thank you. Thank you for loving me just as I am.” 

Prompto choked back a sob and crushed his lips against yours again. “I promise,” he said in between feather-light kisses against your lips, chin, and jaw, “that I will always defend you.” 

Not knowing what to even think or say in return, you just crashed into Prompto’s mouth as you snaked your hand down his body for the second time. You fiddled with the ties and Velcro of his swim trunks and he brought his hands down to help you, shimmying the trunks down to his knees and off of one leg. You brought the towel over the both of you, pausing to run your eyes over Prompto’s perfect body. You shivered as your gaze settled between his legs, where he was hard and waiting for you.  

“Prompto,” you breathed. 

“Please,” he almost cried. “Please touch me.”  

You pulled the bottle of lube from the Armiger—Gladio's, of course, but surely he wouldn’t notice just a  _little bit_ missing from his stash—and quickly popped the cap, coating your hand in the clear, viscous fluid. You grabbed his cock and he cried out, burying his face into your shoulder as you began to stroke him, twisting your hand around the shaft as you pumped, rubbing your calloused thumb over the head.  

Prompto grabbed both of your shoulders and brought himself up to kiss you again, desperately assaulting your mouth and moaning into it as you stroked him.  

“You gonna come for me, Prompto?” you whispered, closing your eyes to focus on teasing him. “Please, give it to me. Show me how much you love me.” 

“Gods, fuck, ___________, I love you so much...I’m gonna...” and with a loud groan, Prompto spilled into your hand as you continued to stroke him, milking him for everything he was worth until he pried your hand away from him.  

You stared him in the eyes as you brought your hand to your mouth and licked it clean, earning another deep blush from the blond.  

“How are you so fucking beautiful when you look so dirty,” Prompto murmured, stroking your wet hair back from your flushed face.  

“I’m...I’m not, I just like taking care of you...I feel so bad that we haven’t..., y’know, done it yet.” 

“Hey,” said Prompto, stroking your face. “I will wait for you as long as you need. In the meantime...this is pretty damn good.” he chuckled. “Are you...do you need to get off...?” 

You shook your head. “I’ll be okay. I’d rather not risk sand or anything else down there, y’know?” 

“Yeah,” Prompto laughed. “I get it.” He wiggled his swim trunks back on and sat up, bringing you with him. The sun was starting to set, painting the horizon in a watercolor canvas of pinks, purples, and oranges.  

“Oh wow,” you said. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Yeah, it is,” Prompto replied, but he wasn’t looking at the scenery.  

You turned and met his gaze, his face still red from your activity minutes ago, crystal blue eyes full of wonder and love and hope, mouth broken into a toothy grin.  

“Prompto, you dork. How many cheesy romantic movies have you seen to pick  _that_ one up?” 

“Enough of them,” he laughed back as he brought his arm around you.  

You leaned into his side and put your head on his shoulder. You knew it was getting late, that the others would be looking for you soon; but for now, it was the beginnings of a quiet evening on the beach, just you and Prompto.  

* 

“It’s in all the papers,” Ignis was saying as he handed the stack of newsprint to Gladio.  

“What is?” Noctis furrowed his brows and stood up from the bed.  

You shifted slightly on the other bed in the resort hotel. You’d seen Ignis mad—furious, even—sad, determined, focused, upset, but...but this. _This_ was an expression, a change in tone that you’d never witnessed from the tactician. You looked at Prompto, who also wore a worried expression, as Noct continued to protest while walking toward his two retainers.  

Gladio cleared his throat as he took the paper, but suddenly Prompto jumped from the bed and passed Noctis in a quick jog over to the shield.  

“Insomnia...falls?” Prompto’s voice quivered.  

“What?” Noctis hissed, beautiful dark features turning even more angry. “This is your idea of a joke?” 

“I need you to calm down so I can explain.” 

“I’m as calm as I’m gonna get!” Noctis roared.  

Ignis sighed. “There was an attack. The imperial army has taken the crown city.” 

Gladio narrowed his eyes as he read the paper. “‘As treaty room tempers flared, blasts lit the night sky. When the smoke about the Citadel had cleared, the king was found…dead.'” 

Noctis’ jaw dropped, a hundred different emotions crossing his features at once. “No, wait...hold on...”  

You stood up and tentatively approached him; the young prince was shaking, barely controlled rage and sadness beneath the surface of his body. “Noct,” you said softly. “It’s...I’m...” 

“We had no way of knowing,” Ignis continued.  

“What? Knowing what?” Tears were forming at the corners of Noct’s eyes. 

“That the signing was last night. That Insomnia...” 

“But the wedding! Altissia!” Noctis interrupted.  

Suddenly, you stopped yourself from reaching out to Noctis and your mind went straight to thoughts of your family. You fumbled for the phone in your jacket pocket, fingers shaking as they searched contacts. As the dial tone faded into a connected ring, you shot the guys a look—they were arguing whether they should turn back—as you ran out of the room, phone to your ear and worry in your heart.  

 

Prompto found you a little later, plans to go back to Insomnia (or what was left of it) having already been made—not that you cared, it wasn’t your job to care, it was your job to protect Noctis—Regalia packed and ready to ship out once last-minute shopping was completed. You were folded in on yourself on a bench right outside of the hotel, hugging your knees to your chest. You’d been trying to get in contact with your family, other Crownsguard, neighbors...nothing. The same automated message of  _I’m sorry, the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected_ reverberated in your ears long after you’d stopped trying.  

You felt a slim warmth press up to your back, solid biceps surrounding your plush frame. You relaxed, a little, but were too overcome with emotion to turn around and hug Prompto properly.  

“Hey,” he said quietly. “We’re uh. We’re gonna go back. To-to Insomnia.” 

You nodded weakly.  

“Did you...you tried calling your family, didn’t you?” 

You nodded again, sniffing loudly. “No answer,” you replied, voice cracking. “Mom, dad, my sisters...I couldn’t even get a hold of Crowe or Nyx or Cor. Nobody...” 

Prompto stayed silent and hugged you further. “Gladio’s been trying to make contact with Iris and the Hesters. You’re all in the same boat. Maybe...maybe they made it out,” Prompto offered.  

“I doubt it. Why would the Glaives try to make it a point to get my low-class family out? There are more important people they probably saved. Or died trying to save.” 

“You don’t...you don’t know that,” Prompto breathed. “I mean, I don’t know what happened to mine, either. But hey. We’re family, too, y’know? And we’re all here, and we’re safe. With each other.” 

You finally stifled your tears and sat up, turning to lean into Prompto’s embrace. He stroked your hair and kissed the top of your head. “I love you, ___________. We’re going to figure this all out, together.” 

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Together.”  

Prompto interlaced his fingers with yours and moved to stand up. “Come on. Noct needs us.” 

You wiped your eyes and pocketed your phone, standing to meet the blond. “Right. Noct needs us.” 


	2. Hot Rod

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto gets an old motorcycle and enlists you to help him fix it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God BLESS this took me 84 years to write, I don't even know why. It's super long, but uh, enjoy all the awkward miscommunication and friend fluff. 
> 
> @flopity_flips tried to convince me to put our freckled babe on a moped instead, and while ya girl does personally pine over yellow 1960s Vespas (I blame Fooly Cooly), I also have lots of fantasies about Prompto in a leather jacket on a motorcycle, so uh, author's choice won out here (lol I still love you flopity!!!).

“A  _what_ ,” said Ignis as he was plopping a scoop of vegetable stir-fry onto the plate in front of you.  

It was Friday night, just a few months shy of graduation. You, Prompto, and Noctis had senioritis  _bad_ , Noctis especially—but at the same time, he was constantly lamenting graduation, because then that meant that his life was free and open for nothing else except royal duties. You were just ready to be free of the bullies, and Prompto was just ready to be  _free_.  

You idly summoned elemental fire to light the candelabra in the middle of the table, much to Prompto’s fascination. You blushed a little as you watched his face in the new firelight, sharp pale features flickering behind the flames, freckles dancing in the low light of Noct’s apartment kitchen.  

“Nice touch, ___________,” Noct said, smiling—only to grimace a moment later when his plate was also assaulted with Ignis’ healthy meal.  

“Prompto,” said Ignis. “What were you saying?” 

“Oh!” Prompto chirped, taking a quick swig of water. “I said I bought a motorcycle.” 

“Dude, that sounds sweet,” said Noctis, picking around the broccoli and popping a hunk of chicken in his mouth.  

“Chew with your mouth closed,” chided Ignis before he served his own place and sat, placing the pot in the middle of the table on the lazy Susan. “Why on earth would you buy a motorcycle?” 

“Uh, because it makes me look cool?” said Prompto hopefully, winking in your direction. “Gotta...gotta impress the ladies.”  

You snorted a little.  _If only he knew I was already impressed_ , you thought, but your mind couldn’t help drifting to a vision of Prompto all in black, a tight leather jacket around his lean, muscled form...you quickly shoved in a mouthful of the stir-fry to stop yourself from saying something embarrassing.  

“Hmph, bet it was expensive,” said Noct casually.  

“Actually,” said Prompto as he swallowed. “By the way Iggy, this is really good, as always,” and Ignis smiled. “Actually it’s kinda old. A vintage bike. I bought it super cheap off this old guy who comes into the shop a lot. He can’t ride it anymore, and I gotta fix it up and stuff. I’ve been saving for my own wheels for a while, besides. Anyway. He’s got all this cool old stuff, y’know. You should see his camera collection. He brought it in near closing time a few months ago and I stayed like an hour overtime looking at them. They were so cool!” 

You continued to eat and bask in the warmth that was wholly Prompto being excited about something, and you were hard-pressed to keep your eyes away from him until you found all three men looking at you, your mouth having gone a little slack from watching Prompto’s lips, eyes glazed over with love.  

“Uh,” you said, blinking. “Is there...is there something in my teeth?” 

“You just really spaced out there, bro,” said Noct, laughing. He slapped your shoulder. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine!” you squeaked, moving to take another bite of dinner. “Just...listening intently.” 

“Oh yeah?” teased Prompto. “Then what did I ask you?” 

“What?” 

“If you were listening so well, answer my question.” 

You froze, mildly panicked, as Prompto threw a shit-eating grin your way, and you knew you were failing to keep the blushing at bay. “Uh. Yes?” 

“Great! I’ll see you tomorrow morning then.” 

“Okay!” You took a too-big bite of stir-fry and looked down at your lap as you chewed, Prompto happily continuing to talk about his new project.  

 

Prompto left Noctis’ apartment before you did, and as soon as you watched him round the block outside, you flew to the prince.  

“Noctis! What in the hell am I doing with Prompto tomorrow?” 

Noctis’ soft features sharpened as a wicked grin overtook him. “You mean you don’t remember agreeing to a date?” 

“A WHAT!” you roared, gripping his shoulders. “Did I really say yes to a date? Did I zone out so hard that I missed being asked out for the  _first time ever_? Augh!” You flopped into one of the oversize armchairs in the living room. “I am the  _worst_. Please accuse me of treason and exile me so I have a legitimate excuse to die.” 

“Dude,” said Noctis, snorting with laughter. “Calm down. It wasn’t like he  _actually_ asked you out on a date. But while you were so...” 

“Focused,” Ignis cut in, dusting the entertainment center as he shot you a knowing glance.  

“Focused,” continued Noctis, “Prom asked if you’d meet him at the junkyard to hunt for parts to fix up the bike.” 

“Oh-oh,” you said, straightening a little. “I...I guess I can do that. That’s not like, a real date. A friend date.” 

“Yeah,” said Noctis, smiling.  

“Do be careful,” said Ignis, sitting down for a minute’s rest, placing the duster on the coffee table. “Motorcycles come with a slew of hazards, and drivers aren’t always cautious of sharing the road.” 

“I mean I’m not going to be riding it?” Your voice hitched, just a little. “It’s Prompto’s bike?” 

Ignis stared at you for several long seconds before adjusting his glasses. “Indeed,” he said, standing and grabbing the feather duster. He went back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. 

Embarrassed, you turned to Noctis. “Do you know where the junkyard is?” 

“It’s on the outskirts of town. I snuck in there once, only got to spend a few minutes in the piles before Gladio came after me.” Noctis pouted.  

“I’ll look it up and take the bus to the nearest stop, I guess.” You rose from the chair and stepped over to the coat rack, shouldering your jacket and leaning on the wall to lace up your combat boots.  

“I could call a car for you,” Noctis offered.  

You shrugged. “Nah. I’d never hear the end of it from Nyx if he saw me getting picked up in a Citadel ride. I get enough flack for being soft, the last thing I need is to be accused of abusing crown privileges.”  

“Oh, who cares,” said the prince. “You answer to me. Seriously, it’s no trouble.” 

“It’s okay, Noctis, really.” 

“I bet Nyx is a bad neighbor anyway.” 

You laughed. “He’s all right.” You glanced at your watch. “Gods, it’s already this late. I’m beat. I can’t wait for school to be out.” 

“Yeah.” Noctis folded his arms.  

Ignis approached the two of you, picking up his own jacket from the coat rack. “Please be careful, ____________. The outer parts of town, away from the Citadel’s eyes, can be rather seedy. And you are a young woman...I’d hate to think of what could happen.” 

You shrugged, lacing up the second boot. “What kind of Crownsguard am I if I can’t defend myself?” You stood, staring at Ignis and Noctis. “Guys. I’ll be fine. But...thanks for worrying about me.” 

“I need my healer,” said Noctis, softly. “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

“With Prompto or in general?” 

“Both,” laughed Noctis as he gave you a quick hug.  

“Come,” said Ignis. “It’s late. I’ll escort you home.” 

 

The next morning found you hopping off of the city bus nearly two whole miles from the junkyard, but you figured you needed the exercise anyway. You texted Prompto and shared your location, letting him know you’d be there as soon as possible.  

A message from Noctis came through on your journey.  

 

 _N:_ _How’s it going? Find the parts you needed_  

 _You:_ _Not even there yet dude, nearest bus stop is like two miles from this dump. Gonna totally text your dad and air my grievances. #MoreBusStopsInInsomnia754_  

 _N:_ _Do it, he’d install a junkyard route just for you. You’re like the daughter he never had wtf_  

 _You:_ _Oh gods bless you’re such a drama queen_  

 _N:_ _: (_ _U can’t talk to me that way I’m the prince_  

 _You:_ _Yeah, Prince Charmless! Lmfao_  

 _N:_ _Hey HEY you’re a girl, girls are supposed to be nice and stuff_  

 _You:_ _I am nice. You dad doesn’t like me more than you, why are you saying that_  

 _N:_ _: (_  

 _You:_ _You're such a baby_  

 _N:_ _: (_  

 _You:_ _Are you in a meeting or reading reports or something?_  

 _N:_ _Bored in a meeting, why in the fuck are these things on Saturdays too_  

 _You:_ _You’re gonna get in trouble, get back to work. Write a petition for more bus stops, do something useful with your life_  

 _N:_ _: (_  

 _You:_ _Your guilt trip isn’t working_  

 _N:_ _: (((((((((_  

 _You:_ _Just sayin. More bus stops,_ _Noct_ _._  

 _N:_ _I’ll see what I can do_  

 

Snorting with quiet laughter as you put your phone back in your pocket, you looked up to finally see the entrance to the junkyard, Prompto in fitted gray sweatpants and a red sleeveless shirt leaning up against the dirty chain-link fence. You called his name and he straightened and waved, bouncing back and forth on one foot as you closed the gap.  

“You made it!” Prompto said, face flushed from the late spring heat.  

“Ye-yeah! ‘Course I did,” you said. “How’d you get here so early?” 

“I asked Noctis if I could borrow a car. I mean I didn’t drive, I got picked up by a Citadel driver.” 

“You fucking what? Oh my gods, I turned him down when he offered to have someone get me!” 

“Dude please do not tell me you just walked like fifteen miles.” 

“Nah, just two. I took the bus from my apartment.” You huffed. “But son of a bitch! I didn’t want to let anyone see me getting picked up by a crown driver. Ugh. Now I’m all hot and shit.”  

Prompto chuckled. “Hey, don’t worry. We can ride back in some sweet air conditioning once we get these parts.” He slung his arm around your shoulders and the two of you walked into the junkyard.  

Prompto gave a small wave to the manager in the booth just inside the gates. The old man grunted in greeting, and Prompto approached his booth. “Hey, uh. Looking for some motorcycle parts? Here's the specs on the bike.” Prompto held out a sheet full of scribbled notes, hand-drawn pictures, numbers, and dates.  

The old man stared at the sheet, his eyes widening. “Son, where’d you get this bike? You sure the production date is right?” 

“Yeah, yes sir,” said Prompto. “Definitely an M-Class Headhunter model, 150 cc engine. Made in ME 700. Fifty thousand miles.” Prompto pointed to the bottom of the sheet. “Here’s what I’m looking for, specifically. Uh. Bought off this old man I know.” 

“I ain’t seen one’a these for years,” the man huffed. “Bike graveyard is in the back left corner, by the old red shed. Can’t miss it. Don’t know if I’ll have what yer lookin’ for, but give it a shot.” 

“All right, thanks!” Prompto bounded away from the junkyard manager. “Ready to go hunt?” 

You smiled. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” You grabbed the paper from his hand. “You gotta show me what we’re looking for, Prom.” 

“What? Oh, oh yeah!” He started chattering away parts and descriptions as the two of you wound your way through the maze of discarded machine mountains. After several minutes of walking— _Astrals_ _, this place is huge,_ you thought—you finally saw the shed in the back corner, skeletons of old motorbikes littered around it, old rusted oil barrels overflowing with wires, headlights, motors... 

“Oh, wow, ___________,” Prompto breathed, “look at all of this stuff! We’re bound to find what we need in here!”  

You couldn’t help but wonder if Prompto was ever going to be that excited about you, but you pushed the thought from your mind as you smiled and took his notes from him and snapped a picture of it with your phone. “We’ll cover more ground if we split up and start looking in different piles.” You wiped your brow—it was really warm today, low breeze, high humidity, no clouds; and so you’d dressed simply in an old pair of jean shorts and a thin white t-shirt and black sneakers, hair pulled high into a ponytail, but you were still sweating. “Geez it’s hot today Prom, you couldn’t have picked a better day to do this?” 

Prompto frowned a little. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know it was going to be so hot. You...you can go if you want, it’s okay. It was insensitive, asking you to come all the way out here in this heat.” 

“Hey.” You reached out a put a hand on Prompto’s bare shoulder, and he visibly stiffened at the touch. “It’s okay. You can’t control the weather, right? So the sooner we get started, the sooner we can get these parts back to your place. Besides, what’s the good of you having bought a motorcycle if you can’t even ride it?” 

His face softened, frown fading back into characteristic toothy grin and dancing freckles under soft pink cheeks. “Right? That’s what I said!” He turned dramatically and waved his paper overhead, almost diving headfirst into one of the barrels. “Oh, and if you find a part we need that’s actually attached to another bike around here, let me know. I have some pliers and stuff in my pocket.” He patted his sweatpants.  

You looked down as he patted his pants, trying not to notice how the fitted sweats hugged his toned runner’s legs, or how they sat low on his hips, the tiniest bit of skin showing between the hem of the red sleeveless shirt and the waistband, and  _definitely_ not noticing the...outline...of a certain body part, visible  _just so_ when he moved a certain way... You turned sharply with a “Got it!” and tapped your phone screen, waking up the device back to the picture of the parts list.  

Two hours had passed before you knew it, sun beating down and creating what you knew was going to be a faint sunburn on the back of your neck. You stood, having somehow, impossibly, pulled a second in-tact fuel hose from the bottom of the junk pile that was about as tall as you were. You set it in the beaten-up drip pan you’d found to hold all the random plugs and wires and screws that were noted on Prompto’s list. You stretched and turned, seeing the poof of Prompto’s hair half-hidden behind the junk pile a little way behind you. Yawning loudly, you brought the bottom of your shirt up to fully wipe the sweat from your face, not thinking that it’d draw any sort of attention, but as you dropped your shirt back over your front and opened your eyes, you saw a flash of red and blond hair almost diving back behind the other junk pile. Your mouth dropped open in horror in realization and you turned around again, face probably as red as Prompto’s shirt, and you went around to the back of the junk pile, not coming around the other side for another long while.  

 

Eventually, Prompto found you in the other pile, comparing the picture on your phone to a part on a mostly-stripped down bike, biting your lip in concentration. You were so focused he had to cough to get your attention.  

“What?” You looked up at him and blinked. It took you several seconds to realize that he had taken off his shirt. The red tank top was draped around his neck, freckled pale torso glistening with sweat.  

“Man, I’ve been shouting for like a half hour. You didn’t hear me?” 

“Uh. Guess not.” You looked down again, sheepishly.  _I can barely handle him normally, and now he takes his shirt off? Great._ Great. “Sorry Prom. Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, everything’s good! Super, super good! I’ve actually found most of what I needed.” Prompto smiled happily and you tried not to follow the bead of sweat that rolled from under his jaw down his neck, pooling in his collarbone for a second only to roll down to his flushed chest, crest over a pink nipple and continue over slight but still-defined abs, down to the waistband of those godsdamned gray sweatpants and disappear below the waistband. You tried not to look at the front of the pants, either. (You were not successful in either of those endeavors, but Prompto was so caught up in talking about spark plugs that he didn’t seem to notice.) 

“Oh cool! Well uh,” you muttered, pointing to the drip pan. “That’s what I found. Sorry if there’s duplicates in there or whatever. If I found two of something, I kept it in case the first one didn’t work.” You closed your phone out of the picture. “Sorry, you know I don’t know anything about mechanical or technical stuff.” 

“Oh, it’s not hard to learn, y’know,” said Prompto, extending a hand and helping you to your feet. “I just tinker, mostly. I like learning how stuff works. I figure this motorcycle project will really give me something to sink my teeth into.” 

“Uh-huh.” You smiled, folding your arms. “And tell me, bad boy, do you even have a motorcycle license?” 

Prompto flashed a grin. “I do, actually. Remember last month when I was ‘sick’ from school?” 

“Oh you absolute  _liar_. You played hooky, didn’t you?” 

Prompto laughed. “Caught the downtown bus to the DMV and got my driver’s license, complete with a motorcycle classification.” 

“I’m actually really impressed. You put a lot of forethought into this.” You looked down again, blushing a little, hoping your already-sweaty red face would hide the sensation. “I gotta ask though, why didn’t you get Noct to come with you today?” 

“Ah-ah,” Prompto stuttered a little. “Well, I  _had_ asked him, initially. Said he had a meeting today, couldn’t go.” 

“Oh...oh.”  _So_ _I was plan B, okay. That’s cool. I knew I was reading too much into this anyway._  

“But, but! I mean...I mean it’s not like I wouldn’t have wanted you to come, too! I was planning on asking the both of you! I just got to him first and he couldn’t so that’s why I asked you last night at dinner. It wasn’t like...like you were just backup or something...please don’t think that!” 

The panic in Prompto’s voice made your head whip back up. Gods, the distorted, pained face he was making, bottom lip quivering at the thought of having upset you, crystal blue eyes silently pleading for any sort of forgiveness you could muster... you felt yourself visibly droop, and in spite of Prompto’s loss of shirt, you stepped close to him and hugged him.  

The blond instantly melted into your touch and pressed himself hard up against you, burying his face in your neck. “I’m sorry,” he said, in between sniffles. “Don’t think...you’re my best friend in the whole world, besides Noct, I didn’t mean to make you feel like...”  

“Prompto,” you said softly, and fucking Astrals it was impossible not to snake your arms around his bare back and delicately run your fingers over his strong muscles, pale skin covered in a sheen of sweat, as you drew him closer to you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...I’m sorry I made you think that. I didn’t mean it that way. Please don’t cry. Please. I’m not mad at you.” 

Prompto sniffed again, big and hard, and brought his face up to meet yours. “You mean it? You’re not mad at me?” 

“Prom, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now than here with you in this sweaty ass junkyard, digging through old motorcycle parts.” You smiled.  

Prompto laughed nervously and ran his hands through his hair. “Oh-oh, really? Wow, that’s...you mean that?” 

“Yeah buddy, I really do.”  

 

Noctis, who was definitely nowhere  _near_ a council meeting on a Saturday, smiled lazily into his mid-afternoon bowl of cereal. He wondered how his two friends were faring on their junkyard date, thanking the  Astrals  that he’d been clever enough to turn Prompto down gently  _and_ get him to spend one-on-one time with the girl he’d been head-over-heels for since they were sixteen. He vaguely wondered who was going to confess first as he took another bite of soggy squares and changed the television channel.  

 

By four o’clock, you’d called the Citadel and asked about a driver to come pick you up at the junkyard. Prompto had paid the old man the flat pull-a-part fee and came to meet you outside the gate, arms loaded with old canvas tote bags the man had let Prompto take home. You grinned at Prompto as he hummed happily, swinging the bags full of motorcycle parts.  

“So uh,” said Prompto. “You wanna come over to my place and help me start working on it?” 

“Oh...I mean sure, I guess? I don’t know how much use I’d be. I can hold the flashlight for you.” You laughed.  

“Hell yeah man, just what I needed. A pretty girl to hold the flashlight.” He stopped suddenly, face draining of color, eyes wide in panic. “Uh, I mean...I mean, not that you’re not...pretty, I mean, you...you are! It’s just, I...uh...” Prompto shut his eyes hard and turned away. 

 _Did he just...he thinks I’m pretty? No way. No way he means it like_ that, you thought. “Dude, Prom, Eos to Prompto Argentum. Calm down dude.” You took a deep breath. “If you wanted a pretty girl to hold your flashlight, I can call...someone else?” You laughed it off. “Hey, I think I see the car! Thank gods.”  

Prompto shot you a pained look but said nothing, letting the moment fall away into awkward silence as the big black government SUV pulled up to the curb, driver waving the both of you in. The driver made small talk with you on the way—this one was named Kaius, and you remembered him helping you move out from your parents’ house into the low-rent complex almost completely dominated with other Crownsguard and Kingsglaive—but Prompto was quiet, still going through what you guessed was inner turmoil about his earlier...confession? Could you call it a confession?   _I mean, he did kind of...in a roundabout way, he did call me pretty? I better ask Ignis what to do before I say anything stupid._  

Kaius waved the two of you off twenty minutes later. Prompto’s apartment was on the third floor, but instead of heading upstairs, he motioned for you to go around to the back of the complex to a little shack. Prompto threw the tarp off the bike and there it was, in all of its shiny chrome glory, rusted and dusty in some spots but overall in wonderful shape for a bike that was half a century old.  

“Well, here she is!” Prompto chirped happily, setting his bags down beside the bike. “I thought that I’d get it painted yellow when it was completely fixed.” 

“Yellow like a chocobo?” You teased, circling the bike a few times. “It looks really good Prom. I think you got a good deal. I hope we can get it working.” 

“As long as you hold the flashlight,” Prompto said quietly, looking at you with sincerity.  

You blushed a little. “Well duh, as long as...” the growling of your stomach interrupted what probably would have been a sweet friend moment—which, when it came to Prompto, were the moments that you lived and breathed for. You rolled your eyes. “Wow, okay. Hi stomach.” 

“Dude, I am the  _worst_ ,” said Prompto. “I’ve made you be out in the hot sun all day and we totally missed lunch!” He swept his hands through his hair and exhaled long and slow, muttering to himself.  

“Prom, it’s okay! We’re back in civilization now! Why don’t you get started and I can run across the street to a food truck or something? My Crownsguard check just hit the other day, I’m good for it.” 

“The lady isn’t supposed to pay on a date,” said Prompto without thinking—and he almost slapped his own face in trying to cover his mouth as soon as he said the words.  

“Okay but this isn’t a date,” you said dryly. “We’re two sticky teenagers who just spent like five hours in a junkyard. It’s fine, Prompto. Let me go grab dinner. You in the mood for anything special, or...?” 

Prompto coughed nervously and waved his hand. “Nah, just get me whatever. You know what I like at this point.” 

“Well I’ve known you for almost two whole years, I certainly hope so.” You shot him a thumbs-up. “I’ll be back soon, okay?” And you bounced off, already having in mind the spicy curry, rice balls, and coconut soup you’d be ordering double servings of.  

Prompto, in the meantime, was furiously texting Noctis instead of taking apart the motorbike’s engine.  

 

 _P:_ _Dude DUDE you_ _gotta_ _help me I’m screwing this up BIG TIME_  

 _N:_ _Prom calm down, what’s wrong_  

 _P:_ _You’re not still in your meeting right????_  

 _N:_ _Funny thing about that, I had Ignis go to it instead, lol_  

 _P:_ _You LIED TO ME_  

 _N:_ _How else were you_ _gonna_ _get the balls to go anywhere alone_ _with ____________  

 _P:_ _You’re mean dude_  

 _N:_ _Am not_  

 _P:_ _But anyway I’ll talk to you about your betrayal LATER. I need HELP_  

 _N:_ _Okay, what? I’m here buddy_ _,_ _talk to me_  

 _P:_ _So first of all she walked like two miles from the nearest bus stop to the junkyard, while I took you up on your car offer and I felt like the biggest asshole. THEN it was like_ _super hot_ _and she was like, “Ugh it’s hot” and so I got all mad at myself for dragging her outside in the heat!!!! She did look p cute_ _tho_ _, she was in this white shirt and jean shorts. So classic_  

 _N:_ _Uh huh, then what_  

 _P:_ _Okay and THEN she asked me why you weren’t here and I mentioned that I asked you to come and you said you couldn’t—_ _W_ _HICH OBVS U LIED ABOUT, VERY UNPRINCELY—and she was all “Oh,” LIKE SHE THOUGHT SHE WAS BACKUP, LIKE PLAN B, LIKE I ONLY INVITED HER B/C U COULDN’T COME WHICH WASN’T THE CASEEEEE AND WE’VE BOTH BEEN FUCKING CRYING ALL DAY. NOCT I CAN’T DO THIS IT’S TOO COMPLICATED_  

 _N:_ _Prom, breath, calm down. It’s okay. She doesn’t hate you. Did she say she hated you?_  

 _P:_ _No, she actually told me there’s nowhere she would’ve rather been today._  

 _N:_ _Oh she did??? That’s GOOD bro, that’s so good. Okay. What are you doing now? You’re not ignoring her right? You took the Citadel ride back to your place?_  

 _P:_ _Yeah yeah she called the car—she knew the driver actually, it was so cute!_ _ANyway_ _we got back here and we were like, maybe having a moment IDEKKKKKK but her stomach growled and I was like, Oh fuck we missed lunch now it’s so late and you’re so hungry I’m so sorry :(_ _And she said, “NO I’ll go get food, you start fixing ur bike” LIKE THE GODDAMNED LADY THAT SHE IS._ _Anyway_ _I made a fuss about it like the dumbass that I am and said Girls aren’t supposed to pay on a date and she was like, It’s not a date? We just spent five years in a junkyard and I’m going to a food truck. BUT NOCT I WANTED THIS TO BE A DATE, IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DATE, MY BRAIN SAID IT WAS A DATE AS SOON AS U BAILED ON ME_  

 _N:_ _Dude, okay. Calm down._  

 _P: AND THAT’S NOT EVEN THE WORST PART, I ACCIDENTALLY SAW HER WITH HER SHIRT UP TODAY. LIKE SHE LIFTED HER SHIRT TO WIPE HER FACE IN THE JUNKYARD_ _CUZ I GUESS SHE THOUGHT I WASN’T LOOKING_ _AND I SAW HER BRA, DUDE. AND HER BARE STOMACH. I CAN’T GET THE IMAGE OUT OF MY HEAD._  

 _N:_ _Did you at least take your shirt off to be even, lol_  

 _P:_ _…_  

 _P:_ _...Yes I did AND NGL SHE DID KINDA OGLE ME A LITTLE IS THAT GOOD_  

 _N:_ _Prom that’s great, chicks love looking at guys, you’ve got this in the bag_  

 _P: I also accidentally called her pretty. I mean not accidentally like I never wanted to say she was pretty and not mean it because she IS pretty but I wasn’t planning on actually telling her and I_ _kinda_ _did and she_ _kinda_ _laughed it off so maybe she didn’t think anything about it_  

 _P: L_ _ike she was like “if you want a pretty girl to help you fix ur bike I’ll call someone else” why is she like that, why doesn’t she think she’s pretty? It’s so bad how can I make her see how pretty she is, like it totally didn’t help seeing her all half-sunburned and sweaty today_  

 _P:_ _and knowing that she was there only for me and that she was only complaining a little, not really, like she REALLy wanted to be there??? She’s such a good friend dude I can’t get over it_  

 _N:_ _Prom. Relax. I mean other than some miscommunication—which you seemed to fix, I guess—it sounds like today went really well. And now you’re having dinner together? You’ve spent all day with her._  

 _P:_ _I mean kinda but not_ _really_ _we were in separate junk piles looking for all my shit but she did such a good job helping me._  

 _N:_ _Only one lady you_ _wanna_ _impress with your bike huh bro_  

 _P:_ _This is too complicated_ _, I can’t do this, what are feelings_  

 _N:_ _When are you just going to tell her you like her_  

 _P:_ _NEVER_  

 _P:_ _OH SHIT SHE’S BACK W/FOOD TTYL_  

 

Prompto pocketed his phone as you came around the back of the apartment complex with two plastic bags stuffed full and tied up tight with Styrofoam containers, plastic water bottles under both arms. 

“Hey, I got us rice balls, curry, coconut soup, and some steak skewers. Not sure about you, but I’m starved.” You smiled and set the bags down, bringing the water bottles out from under your arms and tossing him one. “Didja get started or were you waiting on something?” 

Prompto looked up at you, expression blank as he opened the bottle. “No, no! I uh...I just got distracted talking to Noct. Besides, who’s gonna hold my flashlight?” 

You laughed as you sat next to the blond on the warm concrete. “You dummy, there’s like three hours of daylight left.” 

“Hmph. Then you have to stay until I need a flashlight.” 

“Fine. But until then I’m just here for moral support.” You opened one of the bags and brought out the small container of rice balls, wrapped in seaweed and already topped with soy sauce. “Bottoms up, dude. Unless you’d rather get started on your bike first.” 

Prompto smiled and shook his head. “Nah, let’s eat. You went through all the trouble of getting this, so. Thanks again, by the way. I promise I’ll have a better plan next time.” 

 _Next time? As in...another time hanging out alone? All day together? With food?_ You shoved the second rice ball in your mouth and nodded to avoid saying something awkward.  

 

It was ten o’clock, and Prompto thought he’d  _just_ figured out how to connect the second fuel line when the LED flashlight suddenly clattered to the ground, followed by a soft  _thwump_ behind him. He whipped his head around to find you face-first on the ground, dozing lightly, flashlight still rolling from side to side in the after-effects of being dropped.  

Prompto stared at you for a few long minutes, lips curling into a smile as he watched you sleep, chubby face pushed into the hard ground, mouth slightly slack, face totally relaxed on the warm pavement. He quietly brought his phone out of his sweatpants and snapped a picture, saving it as your new contact image. He sent it to Noctis.  

 

 _P: Help_ _HELP_ _she fell asleep while holding the flashlight what do I DO_  

 _[Attachment: 1 Image]_  

 _N: Aw_  

 _P: Dude_  

 _N: I mean, wake her up? I’ll get Iggy to come_ _get_ _her from your place_  

 _P: Is he still up?_  

 _N: I mean probably, you know that man never sleeps_  

 _P: Okay you ask him, if I ask_ _him_ _he won’t come_  

 _N: I mean it’s on behalf of ___________, doesn’t matter who asks him, he’d probably do it_  

 

You woke up to a gentle shaking and a soft, lilted voice low in your ear. You vaguely registered Ignis as you came to consciousness, blinking in the harsh light of the street lamps behind Prompto’s apartment complex. The blond was seated next to you; no, wait...your head was actually on his leg...had you fallen asleep outside?   

“Good evening, ___________,” Ignis said with a small smile.  

“Are you...are you wearing a hoodie?” 

Ignis chuckled. “Ah, well. I was already turned down for the evening, but it seems that you needed me more than my cup of vanilla chamomile. As for my casual attire...it’s Gladio’s, if you must know. He seems to have a habit of leaving things at my apartment.” 

“Prom?” You rose a little and stiffened when you felt his hand rubbing circles on your back.  

“Yeah ___________, you okay? You fell asleep on me there. Lost my flashlight girl.” 

“How long have I been out?” 

“Uh...” Prompto looked at his phone, at the text he’d sent Noct. “Thirty minutes?” 

“Oh man.” You yawned. “Didja...how’s the bike?” You sat up fully, then. 

“Well obviously I stopped when you conked out. I called Iggy to come take you home. Hopefully in a few days she’ll be ready to roll. You’re gonna take her for a test run with me, yeah?” 

You snorted a little. “What’s the weight limit on it?” 

Prompto looked a little sad, suddenly. “Dude, I wish...I mean you’re not going to break it, if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

“If you say so. But sure. If you wanna take me for a ride, I guess that’s okay.” You looked at Ignis. “Thanks for coming to get me, Iggy.” 

“But of course, darling.” Ignis rose and helped you to your feet; Prompto followed. You hugged the blond and said your goodbyes, turning back to look every few seconds as he cleaned up his makeshift shop, putting the flimsy blue tarp back over the bike and wheeling it back into the shed, throwing the food containers in a nearby dumpster, picking up his tools and yet-unused parts and rounding the building to go upstairs to his home.  

 

Four weeks later, you awoke on a sleepy Sunday morning to an all-caps text from Prompto, asking you if you had plans. You’d had Crownsguard training for several hours the day prior, so you schedule was, thankfully, clear. It wasn’t  _quite_ time to study for exams, and honestly you’d just planned to swing by and have dinner with your family later, so the morning and afternoon were left to whatever your heart desired. You yawned and smiled at the text. A day with Prompto. Those were always good—better than good, actually. You prided yourself on starting to handle your crush better, because, as you’d told Ignis years ago, being his friend was better than not being in his life at all. And it made you smile that he wanted to be around you, too. You could definitely handle being one of Prompto’s best friends.  

You made the snap decision to do something you didn’t do often—you swiped to his  _info_ screen from the chat log and pushed his phone number.  

Prompto picked up after two rings. “Uh, heya, __________!” 

“Sup,” you yawned lazily into the phone. “Don’tcha know girls need their beauty sleep, Prom?” 

“Ah, heh, sure I guess,” said Prompto nervously into the receiver; but he quickly switched gears. “But hey! Hey are you busy, like, right now?” 

“Other than just coming to consciousness, no. What’s up?” 

“I know it’s been a while since I gave you updates on the bike, but...SHE’S READY!” Prompto screamed excitedly into the phone. “I finally got it fixed up one hundred and ten percent! Been picking up extra hours at the photo studio, too, to help pay for it. And Noct let me raid the Crownsguard machine rooms for stuff. So I’m golden! Well actually, the bike is golden,” he said cheekily.  

You snorted at the joke—so he  _had_ painted the bike yellow after all. “What did you name it?” 

“Ah!” gasped Prom. “I haven’t named it yet! Uh...maybe you can think of something while I’m on the way?” 

“On the way where?” 

“To pick you up?” 

“To...to what?” 

“Remember you said you’d let me take you for a ride on it?” 

“Oh...oh yeah. Yeah? So you wanna do that now?” You drug yourself to a seated position in bed and yawned again. “Okay, uh, cool I guess. Let me go get ready. What time will you be here?” 

“I’ll give you an hour,” said Prompto happily. “Two friends on a Sunday drive, can’t beat it!” 

“Sounds great, Prom. I’ll be ready. You remember my address yeah?” 

“Yep!” the blond chirped. “See ya soon!” 

“Mkay, bye!” You pushed  _end call_ on your phone and actually screamed a little before furiously texting Ignis for advice. You got up, not waiting for the adviser’s reply, and shuffled to the bathroom to start your shower.  

 

Unknown to Noct, Prom, or anyone else, you’d invested in a (thrifted) leather jacket just the week prior in anticipation of riding on Prompto’s motorcycle. It was all you’d been thinking about since the Saturday in the junkyard, hunting for parts. So fifty-five minutes from your earlier phone call, you were outside your apartment’s door, leaning on the balcony railing, dressed in black jeans, a white t-shirt, the leather jacket (which had actually been a men’s, but it fit you like a glove and was in great shape), and your Crownsguard boots. You’d braided your hair into pigtails to avoid helmet hair—and dear gods, you hoped Prompto had sense enough to buy helmets—and your keys, phone, and a small change purse were zipped up in various jacket pockets. Blinking against the bright Sunday morning sun, you brought your sunglasses down over your eyes just in time to see the absolute vision roll onto the end of the street, bound for you.  

Prompto wasn’t supposed to be cool—logically, you knew that, because he never tried to be cool in the two years you’d known him. He was all awkward and gangly, comprised of bad jokes and a stupid sense of humor; a video game nerd of the highest order, mechanically-minded but with little common sense, fumbling over his words, his own body, speaking hours before he had a coherent thought. And all of this is what you loved about him, coupled with his pale, exotic, definitely  _not-_ native Insomnian features, his selfless personality; his life’s mission of simply staying befriended to Noctis; and his passion for photography and technology. All of this was the lovable, dorky, adorable and yet insanely hot package that was Prompto Argentum. 

But.  

But when Prompto rolled up in front of your dingy apartment complex on a vintage yellow motorcycle that he’d refurbished himself, wrapped in a tight leather jacket and leather pants, fingerless black gloves on his strong hands, blond hair tucked under—thank gods—a helmet with fucking  _flames_ on it, in his old aviator sunglasses...you were pretty sure you let out an audible moan, thankful that you were two stories above the parallel parking spot he’d grabbed right behind Nyx’s car. You brought out your phone, opened the camera, zoomed in and pushed  _record_ as Prompto—in what looked like slow motion—brought the bike to a halt and set out the kickstand, unfastened his helmet and shook his hair, which was sticking up on all ends, now; and  _Shiva’s tits_ , why had Prompto never styled his hair  _up_ before? It was a crime, that’s it, you were calling the police. Prompto stayed straddled on the bike—why were the gods so cruel, why couldn’t you have just been a vintage yellow motorcycle—and held the helmet in his hands. You ended your recording and pocketed your phone, leaning on the railing again, just as Prompto looked up and caught your gaze. He flashed a toothy grin and lowered his sunglasses halfway, and  _Astrals_ , if this is what it took for Prompto to gain a little cool-guy confidence and a fraction of Noctis’ mystique, then you’d spend your life earnings on buying the guy motorcycles, because god _damn_ , Prompto looked like a whole meal down there, and you weren’t sure you’d be able to even move.  

“What’s a cool guy like you doing in a place like this?” you called down, teasingly.  

Prompto snorted and laughed, sunglasses still halfway down his nose, piercing blue eyes laser-focused on you, and suddenly, your mouth felt very dry. “Oh, y’know, just roaming the streets of Insomnia, looking for girls.” 

You rolled your eyes, but decided to keep playing. “Well buddy, lucky for you, I’m a girl. Got room for one more on the back of that chick magnet?” 

“Hell yeah,” Prompto called back as he patted the back seat.  

Grinning, you somehow willed your legs to move and you bounded down the two flights of stairs to the street, sauntering up to Prompto with what you hoped was a cool-yet-feminine swagger.  

“It really is super cool, Prompto,” you said as you approached him  

Prompto pushed his glasses back flush against his face, smiling again, and handed you the helmet. “Sorry, I only have one. Figured I’d save it for the more valuable cargo.” 

“Uh-uh. You wear it.” 

“You are not winning this one, man. Come on, you’re the lady here.” 

“You just called me man, so I fail to see your logic.” 

“Dude, ___________. Please wear the helmet. Iggy’d ream me a new hole if he knew I let you ride this thing without one. Lesser of the two evils here. You take the helmet. I promise I’m saving up to get another one soon.” 

You huffed and puffed out your cheeks, but took the helmet and adjusted the straps, fastening the safety device on your head. You couldn’t help but scan hungry eyes over Prompto’s leather-clad form up close, thankful that your sunglasses were very much black and tinted.  

“You, uh,” said Prompto. “You look super cool. Didn’t know you had a leather jacket.” 

You blushed slightly but maintained eye contact. “Found it at a thrift store for cheap. Figured if you were going to really get me on this death trap, I’d need it.” 

“Aw don’t be like that! I’m a good driver.” Prompto revved the gas and the bike purred loudly. “Have you eaten breakfast?” 

“A little yogurt and some fruit, but nothing substantial.” 

“Well hop on! Let’s go get some grub, and then we’ll hit the open road.” 

You grinned and climbed onto the bike behind Prompto and pushed yourself up against him, hugging him tight and resting your head on his slender back as you felt him shift the bike, kick up the stand, and speed off, the familiar streets passing by in a blur, Prompto weaving through the lazy morning traffic with ease. As you sped through Insomnia, a name for the bike popped in your head—you'd pitch it to Prompto later:  _apricitas_.  _Sunshine_.  


	3. Yeah, I Got A Lot To Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two nineteen year-olds with three brain cells between the two of them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an 11k-word disaster, but uh. Here. Not gonna lie, this gets a little touchy, because Reader kind of fat-shames herself a lot in this one, so: warning, if you're sensitive, maybe skip this chapter. 
> 
> Old Fashioned is the name of a whiskey cocktail.

Prompto Argentum didn’t go on  _dates_. He was awkward as hell and he knew it, even though he rode a motorcycle and had more than once caught girls kind of looking his way when he’d pull up to work, or the corner coffee shop, or his favorite part of the park. He was friends with exactly one girl, ___________, and she was a member of Noct’s personal Crownsguard along with the super-intimidating but still-friendly Ignis and Gladiolus, his adviser and Shield, with her completing the party as the combat medic. She was, undoubtedly, his only other best friend in the world besides the prince, and probably the only other person he knew who was as socially awkward as himself. It’d been a long time coming, but  Prompto  slowly began to realize, the year after they’d graduated, that he definitely liked ___________ as more than a friend. The term “girlfriend” never really seemed right to describe the relationship he wanted with her, though he knew logically that that’s what he wanted—he wanted to kiss her...fucking Astrals, he'd been dreaming about kissing her since he was seventeen, and puberty had hit him hard these last two years; he wanted to buy her flowers and take her on nice dates and buy her the things she loved, like books and the earthy-sort of jewelry she sometimes wore (Prompto had never really noticed earrings on anyone before, but now he noticed when she would exchange her dangly quartz crystals for black druzy studs and  _gods_ , was he in it bad, he realized, noticing her fucking  _earrings_ ). That she was a person of size never mattered to him, had never mattered—the frequent hugs; the snuggled comforts in the after-care of an anxiety attack; the easy, casual arm-around-the-shoulder or head-in-the-lap when they were over at Noct’s, or going to Noct’s, or leaving Noct’s, made him realize how touch-starved he’d been until befriending the two of them, and Noctis slotted so easily into a role that was almost brotherly; and ____________ fit somewhere in the middle of best friend and girl who utterly, totally confused him and put him at ease simultaneously. Hugging Noctis was right and good and the prince usually burrowed into him whenever they did hug, and Prompto had pretty quickly picked up on the fact that  Noct  might’ve been a little touch-starved too—but hugging __________ was on a whole other plane of foreign sensations because of how  _soft_ she was. Prompto would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy wrapping himself around her completely and molding their bodies together—would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of the way the push of her breasts on his chest sent sparks down south almost every time, would be lying if he said he hadn’t jerked it every other day to the memory of the ten seconds of her exposed skin he’d accidentally seen at her house junior year, or the time in the junkyard when she’d help him search for parts for the motorcycle when he’d again witnessed a bare stomach and flesh-colored bra. And Prompto was in total agony, because surely someone as good, as sweet, as funny, as genuine, as cute, as talented,  and  as smart as ___________ could  _never_ like him in  _that_ way, right? Not him, never him: not some adopted nobody from nowhere, with the weird tattoo on his wrist he’d guessed he’d had since birth; and had only recently switched from dumpy green sweatband to a much cooler black leather bracelet Noctis had given him for a winter solstice present to cover it up twenty-four-seven. No sir. Not him.  

Which is why, Prompto Argentum, who had never gone on a proper date in his life, who had barely even kissed a member of the opposite sex (the glow-up in late middle school had awarded him some kind of stupid puppy-love relationship with a leggy redhead that’d lasted two weeks, scattered with tentative hand-holding and exactly four lip pecks), was wondering what he was doing here, in some seedy joint far,  _far_ from the Citadel that Ignis would probably kill him for even knowing the name of, much less going  _into;_ nursing his third drink at the overcrowded bar, compliments of a very reliable and authentic-looking fake ID, scanning the tables and the long wooden counter for a girl. Any girl. Any girl that wasn’t ___________ that could maybe take his mind off of her for five minutes. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he was only latching onto her because of how close he was with her, because she was the only girl in his life, in his close circles. Maybe he needed to actually do  _this_ , go out and do actual  _adult_ shit and not keep pining over stupid hugs or arcade hangouts with the one woman he surprisingly wasn’t tongue-tied around. He stared into his potent mixed drink and downed the rest in one burning gulp, needing all the liquid courage he could get to not totally blow his chance of a hookup, if he was lucky; or to at least not blow his chance of holding a conversation with a woman, at minimum. 

Prompto was still holding on to his v-card like it was his own government-issued identity number, and he’d been so frustrated lately that sex was the only thing on his stupid brain, and his mission tonight was one that he never thought he’d end up with. He wasn’t  _that_ guy; he wasn’t Gladio, serial dater and hookup king who could charm the spots off a coeurl and the panties off almost every woman he came into contact with. But maybe tonight he could try to be. His personality he’d molded for himself was already fake, so what was some more pretending? Pretending he wasn’t the loser that he actually was. Yeah, easy. He could totally do that. 

Prompto waved at the bartender and lifted his glass, indicating that he’d like a refill, and shit, he was spending damn near a whole week’s salary on one night’s worth of alcohol but he’d been so distressed lately he didn’t know what to do. He heard some new commotion behind him and a group of people walked in, followed by a singular girl—a curvy, petite brunette wearing red heels and a red sundress that hugged her in all the right places; long, thick hair in loose waves cascading down her back; round face wearing a pretty, easy smile—framed in red lipstick—that was bound to knock any man in his right mind flat on his ass; and Prompto was a man, still mostly in his right mind even after the whiskey, and he had an ass, and he was about to be flat on it if he kept leaning off his barstool like he was, so what the hell. Prompto watched her as she rounded the bar, making sure that she wasn’t already spoken for, but it looked like she was alone.  

The bartender slid him his fourth refill and shot him a dubious look but Prompto sat up straight and thanked him without slurring and he was fine, he was  _fine._ He held up a finger to make the man wait as he took a sip from the full drink and watched Red Dress sit at an empty stool at the other end. Keeping an eye on her, he pointed, making the man see Red Dress, and the man turned back to him, and  Prompto  slid him another 3000 yen and mouthed, over the loud music and even louder chatter, to open her up a tab and put it in his name. The barkeep nodded knowingly, and crossed quickly to the other side of the counter, which was curved around in a semi-circle, so Prompto was eyeing Red Dress diagonally; and the bartender flashed the money in his hand and pointed back at  Prompto  without looking; and Red Dress peered over the bartender’s shoulder and smiled and  _winked_ , and fuck she was pretty, and Prompto—though internally screaming—steeled himself and pretended to be unshakable Ignis, charming Gladio, mysterious Noctis. He maintained eye contact with Red Dress as he drank several sips of his drink and nodded, not really knowing what he was doing but how else does one communicate with a stranger on the other side of a bar, and the woman’s smile spread broader and suddenly Prompto could think of nothing else except her lips on his dick and her lipstick on his collarbones and she raised a hand and hooked a finger and motioned to him, and Prompto muttered “Fuck” and drank again before lifting himself from his stool and rounding the long counter to meet her.  

He'd dressed for the occasion, because if Prompto was anything he was trendy, and he knew his best bet was probably his leather jacket, a fitted t-shirt, skinny jeans, and his boots; so that’s what he was wearing. He’d been trying a new hair style recently, short and spiked up at the top, layered long at the sides, curled close against his neck in the back—Noct and __________ had liked it, anyway, and  _nope,_ not thinking of  _her_ , thinking of curvy petite Red Dress—and his black leather bracelet and his fingerless leather biker gloves, topped with cologne that Gladio had helped him pick out a few months prior that he saved for special occasions. Prompto’s inner jacket pocket was loaded with about six condoms and about as many sample packets of lube he’d picked up at the adult store last week when he’d been in the random mood for a new magazine, the kind you have to keep in a paper bag until you got home.  

Prompto took one final, anxious gulp of his drink and willed the whiskey to do the smooth talking as he slid onto the stool next to Red Dress, who’d been eyeing him kind of hungrily as he’d made his approach.  

“Sorry to be so forward,” said Prompto, voice kind of husky from his alcohol-raw throat. “I saw you walk in and you kind of knocked me on my ass, honestly. Can I buy you a drink, unless you’re waiting on someone, or you’d rather be alone?” Prompto was a little desperate but he wasn’t an asshole and if the lady was taken or not in the mood, he’d back off. There were other girls, there were  _other_ girls. 

“You already bought me a drink, sweetheart,” she said smoothly. “It was you who paid the bartender already, yeah?” 

The bartender set a full shot glass in front of them and nodded at Prompto.  

“Right,” said Prompto, drinking. “I...I did. So I can assume you’re okay with this?” 

Red Dress nodded. “Thank you for asking. Yes, this is fine. You’re pretty fine, too.” The lady knocked back the shot and snapped her fingers in the air to indicate another.  

“I’m Prompto,” said Prompto, eyes suddenly darting down. “Uh, Prompto Argentum.” He nervously scratched the back of his neck and peered back up at the brunette beside him, blue eyes wide and hopeful.  

Red Dress smiled, and gods, her lips looked sinful. “I’m Nova Ferrum.” The clink of a glass set on the counter filled the silence as she took her second shot. “So, I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. You new in town, Sunshine?” 

 _Sunshine_. That was what his friends called him, but fuck, some part of the nickname must’ve been true if it was coming from this hot stranger’s mouth.  

“Nope,” quipped Prompto as he scooted closer, having to remember to drag his eyes to meet hers and not settle his gaze on her ample cleavage. “Been in Insomnia all my life. But yeah, I’ve never been  _in_ _here_ before.” 

“You must be a man on a mission, then. This is the fastest I’ve ever been hit on and paid for.” 

Prompto’s cheeks burned hot and he was sure he was as red as Nova’s dress, but he said nothing as he delved into the bottom half of his whiskey mixer. He miraculously kept his eyes on her as they made small talk, Nova waving over an order of the third shot of her preferred poison.  

Finally, he answered her question. “Well, I won’t lie and say I’m not hopeful about tonight, but if all that comes from this is talking to a beautiful woman like you, then it would be a night well spent.”  _Damn, not even_ _Gladio_ _could’ve said anything better than that_. 

Nova smiled wickedly and placed a small hand boldly on Prompto’s upper thigh and put pressure on it, causing his breath to hitch just a little. He just stared her down as he took another sip of his drink.  

Nova’s third shot glass appeared on the bar and she took it and knocked it back, licking her lips as she set the empty glass down. “Wow Sunshine, you’re a real nice talker. And you’re cute, too. What’s with the leather jacket and gloves, you a biker?” 

“I do ride a motorcycle, actually. A vintage Headhunter, year 700. It’s yellow, uh, because chocobos are my favorite animal.”  _Wow, okay, that probably blew it, but hey, I_ talked  _to her. There are_ _other_ _girls. There will be other girls._  

Nova giggled and Prompto suddenly couldn’t breathe. “That’s the most fucking adorable-ass thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” and Nova leaned forward and wrapped her fist in Prompto’s t-shirt and leather jacket and brought him roughly forward and crashed her lips against his, and Prompto  _just_ managed to set his drink on the bar as he brought a slightly shaky hand to rest on the back of her neck, against that thick brown hair. Prompto found his rhythm seconds later and opened his lips to let her explore him, following her lead on the kiss since he’d never kissed with tongue and teeth and open lips before; and fuck all if he didn’t actually let out a small whimper as Nova took his bottom lip between her teeth and bit and sucked.  

Prompto thought he might’ve heard someone say “Get a room,” but honestly, he probably couldn’t have turned around and talked back anyway, not with the way Nova’s hand on his thigh was inching higher and higher and more to the center, between his legs, where he knew he was embarrassingly hard from such sudden and overwhelming contact.  

Nova pulled away suddenly, but not too far, staring Prompto down. The blond could only imagine how he looked, hard and hot and sweating, turned on beyond all reason, drunk as shit and actually starting to forget why he came here in the first place.  

“You good to drive, Sunshine? Wanna continue this at my place?” Nova was leaned to one side of his head, whispering low in his ear, and Prompto visibly shivered.  _Holy shit, I’m really doing this_. 

“I, uh, yeah. Yeah, if that’s what you want.” Prompto looked at his half-finished fourth Old Fashioned on the bar and decided that if he wanted to actually live, he’d better leave it. He slapped another 2000 yen on the counter as a tip and waved at the bartender as he grabbed Nova’s hand, made his way around the bar, and out of the doors.  

 

* 

__________ had entered the bar at the edge of the crown city about thirty minutes earlier, completely lying to Ignis, Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio about her plans for the evening. It was one of those occasions where she wanted to be utterly and hopelessly alone, invisible in a crowd, and surely neither Noctis nor the rest of his retinue knew about this place, not its name or location, definitely not the password for the guarded door (thank the gods for secret social media groups than had the ins on grubby dive bars). She was long past being scared to go out on her own, knowing that she did in fact have the actual capability to either permanently maim or kill an attacker—combat medic still had the word  _combat_  in it and she knew how to slip out of most choke-holds, escape most ropes and zip-ties, and take advantage of a short sword or some daggers stored away in the Armiger should the need arise.  

She’d dressed casually, nondescript in her black leggings, tennis shoes, and a hoodie. She was wearing tinted eyeglasses she didn’t really need but kept on anyway in case she had use for a quick disguise. Ignis would probably give Cor and Drautos a court-marshal consideration if he ever found out she was in here, so the fewer people who recognized a fat underage Crownsguard member in a bar on the bad side of town, the better. She’d ordered some light bar food, some chips and dip and boneless wings along with some half-price fruity mixed thing, which wasn’t enough to get her completely sloshed but enough to take the edge off. ___________ had been sweating bullets when the scantily-clad waitress had approached her table and took her order and asked for her ID—a fake plastic card that made her just three years older than she actually was, detailed down to the holographic government seal on the back and the faint Lucian skulls behind the text on the front. It was a something that __________ never would have thought she’d ever own in a million years, but 5000 yen and an hour in some young kid’s garage later, there it was, even though it skyrocketed her anxiety just carrying around the damn thing. Tonight, though, inhibitions were oddly lowered and the worst that could happen was to get kicked out of this dump and told never to come back, which would’ve been fine, honestly. It did the trick, oddly enough—the busty raven-haired waitress had glanced down at the date and handed it back within two seconds, smiling and writing the order on a pale yellow notepad.  

Yellow. The color of Prompto’s hair. The color of the sun. The color that ___________ seemed destined to be around but to never touch or hold in the way she so desperately wanted. She lazily noshed the food and slowly sipped the drink until it was empty and sighed—it was pretty good, she was all caught up on bills, so who was stopping her from having another glass of the pink fruity liquid—people-watching in her quiet, single table across from the bar. Her phone was set to  _do not disturb_ and the hood of her sweatshirt was pulled up, glasses on; so hopefully, on the off-chance Ignis had microchipped her in her sleep and showed up, he’d have to actually pull off her hoodie and eyeglasses up close to be able to recognize her. But maybe she wanted to get caught. Maybe she wanted them chasing after her, those four ethereal men. Maybe she wanted Prompto, especially, to freak out over unanswered messages or phone calls and hunt her down and tell her the  _impossible_ words that he’d never actually tell her. Because guys like  Prompto  didn’t fall in love with girls like her. This wasn’t a nice, body-positive rom-com. This wasn’t the cute young adult novel where the  _slightly_  overweight girl loses thirty pounds and is suddenly hot and gets the star athlete because  _now_ he sees her amazing personality, now that all the weight is gone. This was real life, hello, Eos to ___________ ; she had been fat forever and despite almost daily cardio that left her dripping in sweat, despite years of eschewing dessert or soda off and on, in phases—despite it  _all_ , despite the calorie-counting, the yo-yo dieting, the yoga, the  Crownsguard  training, the walking, she was still fat; and yeah, it was nice that Noctis and the others didn’t seem to care, and it was nice to have friends and a fulfilling job; and maybe it was cool the gods picked her for some higher purpose, but fat combat medics weren’t famous for getting  _dates_ , getting boyfriends, getting kissed or laid or married. Fat combat medics weren’t famous for wooing lean muscular blonds who rode motorcycles and worked at photography shops and liked chocobos and had the high score on all the first-person shooters at the arcade. Slender blonds with eyes the color of the goddamn sky and constellations of freckles on their faces and shoulders and chest and arms didn’t fall in love with short overweight awkward girls like her. It just didn’t happen. If she were to write a book about it and pitch to Insomnia Publishing, she’d get rejected for her fiction being beyond the realm of disbelief.  

So of course the gods decided to let Prompto Argentum—in the recently-changed hairstyle and his fucking leather jacket and fingerless gloves—walk into the bar and sit at the counter. ___________ cursed under her breath and looked down, suddenly very interested in the cheap black vinyl tablecloth. She looked up a minute later and Prompto’s back was turned, and he was talking and gesturing to the bartender, who was...serving him? Shit, she hoped that kid with the fake ID business had some sort of confidentiality policy. It looked like he hadn’t noticed her, and he was very eagerly downing whatever brown drink was in his hand, so __________ continued to eat and drink lazily and daydream about her friend on the stool, so close yet so far away.  

An hour went by and Prompto was still on his stool, a few sips away from finishing his third drink—shit, when had he learned to knock back what had to be bourbon or whiskey, like  _that_? Chalk it up to the long list of stupid shit about Prompto Argentum that __________ found irrevocably hot for no fucking reason. She sighed and moved to get her waitress’s attention, about to close up her tab and hopefully slip out past Prompto  and go home, social battery quickly fading although she wasn’t really interacting with anyone—when a large group of friends walked in, followed by a short, curvy brunette in a red spaghetti-strap knee-length dress, red heels and red lipstick. Gods, her eyebrows were perfect; she looked like some sort of social media influencer. There was no one beside her or following her, and that was important, maybe, __________ thought.  

But her heart dropped to her feet in sudden female envy— _that_ was the type of girl that got hot goofy blonds on motorcycles, without a doubt; and then Prompto turned to the side and watched her come in, and turned to the other side and watch her round the bar, and fucking Astrals , ___________ would’ve literally murdered Noctis (maybe not really, but kind of almost maybe she  _would have actually_ murdered Noctis and taken that L) for Prompto to look at her like  _that_. If she’d had a dick, she could probably imagine it would be doing what Prompto’s actual dick had to be doing right now, with the way his bright blue eyes almost immediately went black with dilation, the way he stared at her like a voretooth stalking its prey, the way he looked at her like a man in the desert seeing a bottle of cold water for the first time in days. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he gulped and moved to finish his drink, waving the bartender over to order another one, but  also  he was...handing him money? And the bartender was taking it and Prompto  was motioning to Red Dress and then, and then the bartender was walking over to Red Dress and ___________ couldn’t see her exact movements and facial expressions from where she was seated—why was the bar so  _crowded_ —and then suddenly  Prompto  was staring across the bar at what had to be the red dress girl, and he was drinking, and suddenly he was getting  _up_ and ___________ watched his small, tight ass—how he got in those jeans, she’d never know—round the bar, drink in hand, and then he was gone. ___________ forgot all about going home; what mattered now was Prompto.  _I have to confess. I have to do it now._ Fuck it all—she was hot under the hoodie and tipsy as hell and her lips stung with buffalo sauce but who cared, who the fuck cared, Niflheim could bomb them tomorrow and they’d be dead before Prompto ever found out, and she couldn’t die like that—___________ drank the last of her third fruity mixer with vigor, a little liquid courage before she went to interrupt Prompto’s attempt at getting this literal stranger into his arms, hot though she may have been. And minutes later, as she stood up and was scanning the crowd for the waitress who’d opened her tab, Prompto and Red Dress rounded the bar and __________ sat down so fast she jostled the table, but Prompto was hot and sweating and his eyes were laser-focused on the door, she could see it from here—and was that red smeared around his mouth, on the corners? And gods, that was  _definitely_ smeared lipstick on Red Dress’s perfect petite face; plump, full lips eased into a wicked smile trailing close behind  Prompto , one hand gripped tight around his  long, slender fingers;  and the other hand...the other hand...the girl’s  _other_ hand was cupping his ass hard as they both giggled and halfway stumbled out the door.  

And no one noticed. No one noticed as ___________ just stared into oblivion as though a very skilled surgeon had carved out her heart and held it front of her and stuck a syringe in it and sucked out all its blood, leaving an empty husk of muscle on the floor of a bar she was too young to be in in the first place.  

The tears came too easily, and that was to be expected; and the hyperventilating followed, and luckily the waitress was near, now, and ___________ gave her a wad of cash, leaving her a probably too-generous tip but the Crownsguard had to get out of there as soon as possible, and as soon as the money was pushed into the girl’s hand she was gone, flying through the other tables and chairs and careening out into the street under dim and dingy streetlight, the post two lights down flickering, midsummer bugs buzzing around it happily. ___________ stumbled away from the bar’s entrance and into an alley a few storefronts down, hands on shaky knees, breath erratic and tears coming in hard and hot, dripping onto the pavement. She was barely aware of her screams as she sobbed, hands cackling with raw elemental magic that threatened to break the dam that was very quickly cracking under pressure. There was no way she could take public transport home—there was no way she could even  _go_ home. There was no way she could look at Noctis right now if she somehow ended up at his apartment for comfort. There was no way she could tell anyone where she’d been. There was no way she could ever be in  Prompto’s  presence ever again—it was all so hopeless, too hopeless, she felt like she was drowning,  and  her heart was in pieces on the floor of that bar and no one knew, no one could ever know, because how could she compete with  _that_ ,  _that girl_ , the one who could’ve been her in an alternate universe where anxiety didn’t exist and she was maybe seventy-five pounds lighter.  

The one person who could help, the closest real thing she’d ever have to a magic wand, was the one person who’d scold her the most—but maybe he’d have pity just this once? She had to try. She couldn’t stay here.  ___________ sunk to her bottom in the alley, probably sitting on old vomit and dirt and beer cans but who the fuck cared, not her, not right now. Shaking, trying to steady her tears and breathing, she brought her phone from her zippered hoodie pocket and unlocked it and punched a number on her  _favorites._  

“____________,” Ignis said groggily. “What’s the matter?” 

“Oh...oh... _Ignis_ ,” ___________ cried and the tears came again, almost nonstop, barely allowing her to get out two words.  

“Astrals, darling, what’s wrong? Where are you, are you hurt?” 

“N...no!” More tears, more uncontrollable sobs.  

“Can you...never mind. I’m coming for you. Hang up and share your location via text. Do not move if you’re not in immediate danger.” 

“Oh-okay, I’m...I’m sorry, Ignis...” A hard sniff of snot and phlegm and mucus, a disgusted noise at swallowing the fluids as ___________ hung up and brought up the chat log between her and Ignis—she shared her location, tucked her phone to her chest and folded in on herself in the dirty alley as she waited to be saved.  

 

How Ignis made it from the center of the city to the near edge of Insomnia in under twenty minutes ___________ would never know, but Astrals was she ever grateful. A sensation she hadn’t experienced since early childhood was happening, suddenly—the tall, svelte form of Ignis was flexing every muscle he had had and was  _lifting_ her, carrying her bridal-style from the alley and laying her gently on the back seat of his pristine sports car, making sure all digits were there, checking for blood and drugs and bruises, and when he found none, Ignis was back in the driver’s seat and speeding back towards goodness and safety almost as fast as he’d left it. ___________ continued to cry, throat raw with alcohol and screams and tears, until she passed out into nothingness on the designer leather seats.  

 

*

 

Nova lived just a short distance from the place, and Prompto was thankful—he went slow on his bike, but fast enough to not lose any of the momentum he’d had at the bar. Nova directed him to a garage and he parked in the first available spot on the third level, and Nova pushed him into the elevator and he caught her wrist, spun her around and pushed  _her_ up against the elevator wall and continued to kiss her, grinding his clothed erection against her plush, creamy thigh.  

“Fuck, Sunshine,” she breathed huskily, winding her fingers in his hair.  

And Prompto couldn’t help it—he was running on pure instinct and lust and some base part of his brain was pretending that this nice girl was someone else—couldn’t control himself as he dragged his mouth down her neck, teeth grazing soft, pale, feminine skin, breathing in her airy perfume as he licked and sucked where shoulder met neck, along her collarbones, daring to go even lower as his chin grazed the unmistakable fatty tops of her breasts.  

Prompto groaned as Nova pushed him up and away—the elevator had dinged, oh, that’s right, had the ride up been so short? And then she was dragging him down a dimly-lit but elegant hallway—and oh, this girl lived in  _these_ kinds of apartments, the indoor ones, the ones that had their own parking garages and probably had a security guard and a doorman or a bellhop, and too-expensive rent. He ran his hand though the not-spiked up part of his hair as Nova brought out a key card from the pocket of her dress—wasn't ___________ always saying something about how girls’ clothing never had pockets, or big enough pockets, and rarely had dresses with pockets—he couldn’t remember exactly, and he was alarmed to find that he didn’t much care at the moment, not with the way that Nova was pulling him into her space and shutting the door and pushing him up against it, and  _gods_ , she was fiddling with the zipper and button on his pants, and Prompto leaned his head back and carded his fingers through that beautiful waterfall of hair as she released him and licked the tip of his cock.  

“Holy shit, I didn’t expect you to be this big...” 

Prompto’s face flushed and he bit his lip, shaking from just the sensation of her short, manicured fingers holding him at his base. He’d seen other dicks, duh, in the locker rooms after PE in high school, or in porn (but those guys had to be enhanced in some way, he figured), and honestly he’d never thought about his size—he was a virgin, how was he supposed to know how big he was.  _Shit, dude, say something, what would_ _Gladio_ _do?_  “I’m full of surprises,” Prompto blurted out, and okay, maybe not the most suave of lines, but her hand was on his dick so Prompto’s brain cell count had considerably dwindled—and she was giggling the cute, flirty laugh she’d been letting him hear ever since the bar; and then those plump, sinful lips were around his cock and Prompto slammed his head back into the door and whined long and low, and holy fuck, how could anything feel this good? He kept one hand in her hair but he was nowhere near bold enough to set the pace, this was all so new; and his other hand was white-knuckled against the door.  

Nova had obviously done this before, and if she sensed Prompto’s inexperience she said nothing, only swallowed him to completion after ten minutes on her knees. Prompto registered the lack of warmth as she stood, opening his eyes just in time to see her swallow and lick his orgasm from his lips. His only saving grace was that he had stamina for days, so he was still hot and hard, and Nova noticed, and smiled. “Glad you’re up for more, baby. Follow me.” And she turned, shedding clothes and heels and jewelry as she walked further into the apartment.  

She was naked by the time she got to her bedroom and Prompto could only stare. Sure, he’d seen naked women, in videos and pictures, but to have one in front of him, live, ready for  _him_ , it was almost overwhelming. He shed his clothes in a fast, awkward dance, digging in his inner jacket pocket for the condoms and lube; he tossed the foil packets at Nova and she caught them in cupped hands.  

“Oh wow,” she breathed. “You’re not gonna beg me to do it raw?” 

“Uh, um,” said Prompto. “I mean...I like to be safe?” Was that a wuss, virgin thing to say? He didn’t know.  

“Fucking hell,” said Nova. “You’re one in a million. What factory did they make you in?” She drank in his naked form—well, nearly naked...Nova eyed his black bracelet curiously and cocked an eyebrow.  

“It stays on,” said Prompto, and Nova shrugged, dropping the supplies on the bed and beckoning him to her.  

Prompto climbed on her soft down comforter and hovered over her, cock still throbbing. She sat up on her forearms to kiss him again, wrapping her arms behind his neck and bringing him flush against her.  

“You can rest on me baby, I won’t break,” she purred as their lips parted, and Prompto’s cock twitched, caught between his hard stomach and her soft, slightly fatty abdomen.  

“You’re beautiful,” said Prompto, and he meant it—it wasn’t the four whiskeys, it wasn’t, and  _Astrals_ _,_ it was a miracle a dork like him had even made it this far, and— 

“How do you want me?” she was asking, and fuck, he wasn’t sure if he could keep up his poker face through  _this_ one.  

A million positions flooded Prompto’s insanely horny mind; but he said, maybe too quickly, “Just...on your back is fine. I’m simple,” and he gave her the biggest smile he could muster. 

“Fuck,” said Nova, voice wrecked and turned on. “But first can you...”  

Prompto stared, unsure of what she wanted. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered. She’d sucked his dick, and Prompto was respectful, and he was going to do this right, and hopefully without her finding out this was his first time.  

“You hands, inside. Please, Prompto.”  

Prompto hung his head and groaned—it was the first time she’d called him by his name, and he was so turned on he almost didn’t know what to do with himself. He sat up and scooted back, getting off of her and coming to sit cross-legged between her legs. He gently pushed them open and let out a small gasp as she exposed her glistening sex to him. Prompto tried to remember sex ed class—dug up the memory of where the vagina was, what the clitoris looked like, and  _don’t be that asshole that doesn’t get a woman off_ , Gladio had once told him. Prompto brought his long, slender fingers to her lower folds and teased around, feeling her slick and bringing it up to his mouth, tasting her. Fuck. If all women tasted like this, then... He brought his finger back down to her and found her opening, and slowly pushed inside, hooking his finger once he was in all the way.  

“Holy shit, fuck,  _fuck_ , baby, yes,” Nova was whining, and Prompto didn’t think he could blush any more than what he was doing but he felt himself get hot again all over; he shuddered, and began to pump his finger with a steady rhythm.  

Nova knew what she liked and wasted no time moving Prompto’s hands to different parts of her, showing him how to move his fingers in slow, steady circles on her clit with one hand as the other was two fingers deep inside of her. Her orgasm hit sometime later, and Prompto watched in fascination as her back arched and she shuddered and his fingers were flooded with new, warm fluid. She came back down to Eos, shaky, body still spasming as she tried to catch her breath.  

“Okay?” asked Prompto as he finally removed his fingers, and that was probably lame, but he wanted to make sure he’d done a good job, and even if his night ended here, he would’ve been satisfied.  

Nova giggled again. “Gods, how are you so... _nice_?” she asked incredulously.  

Prompto smiled and shrugged. “Uh, I just am? I mean, did I... was that good?” 

“Hell yeah, it was, now get your dick inside of me.” 

Oh, okay, fuck, he could do that. Prompto fished for a condom and rolled it on—he held up a lube packet but Nova shook her head. “I’m wet enough,” and damn didn’t Prompto know it, so he settled himself on his knees in front of her, lifted one of her ankles over his shoulder, and pushed himself deep.  

 

Prompto woke with a start in cool, soft sheets, steady breathing coming from someone beside him—and his head throbbed. He sat up with a groan and rubbed his temples, glancing at the bright red numbers of the clock on the dresser across from him—it was four am, and after leaving the bar he hadn’t paid attention to the time, and he didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, but suddenly...suddenly Prompto felt very guilty. He was a real man or something, now, he supposed; and the girl was beautiful and his first time had been sweet and good and  _fun_ , it just...and the tears hit him unexpectedly, here...it just wasn’t  _her_ , and suddenly Prompto wanted to take it all back, rewind the night, make himself just stay at home or spend the night with  Noct , staying up late to play video games. He should’ve never gone to that bar, should’ve never gotten the fake ID; and fuck,  _fuck,_ he supposed he was destined to be stupid in love forever, and he realized that there was no way he could ever do this again if it wasn’t  _her_. He slid out of Nova’s bed silently and put his clothes back on, making sure he grabbed what was left of the condoms and lube and slipping them back into his pocket, making sure he grabbed his phone and bike keys from the bedside table.  

Nova shifted slightly, then was still; then, spoke, voice husky and caked with sleep, “Hittin’ it and quittin’ it, Sunshine?” 

“I, uh,” said Prompto. “I’m sorry. I have to go. It was—it was good, great, you’re so great, but I’m...I’m not the guy for you.” 

“Hmmmm,” she said, voice calm. “Or is it, I’m not the girl for you?” 

“Maybe something like that. I’m really sorry. It was good, honestly, best sex of my life so far.” 

Nova giggled under the covers. “The only sex of your life, you mean.” 

“Uh.” 

“I know a virgin when I see one, Prompto. Don’t be sorry, it’s okay. I had fun too. I know you’re going to make some girl very happy one day. And hey, now you’ll know what to do.” 

Prompto swallowed hard and nodded, even though she probably couldn’t see him. “Uh, yeah. Thanks. Thanks, and um, sleep well. Have a good day.” What do you say to one-night stands you’ll never see again?  

“What a shame,” Nova yawned. “You’re so fucking  _nice_...” and her voice trailed into silence.  

Prompto left her apartment, found his bike in its spot on the third level of the parking garage, and sped home in the barely-waking hours of the morning.  

 

* 

After fourteen hours holed up in Ignis’ spare bedroom, ___________ was finally succumbing to hunger and the primal need for a shower. She knew she’d missed Crownsguard training that day, but gods bless Ignis, he’d sent a message to Cor saying she’d be out of commission for a short time. He’d left it vague, because she was pretty sure that  _heartbreak_ wasn’t on the approved list of medical excuses for the Crownsguard. She didn’t know what time it was, and didn’t care, and she didn’t actually want to leave the bed but she knew she must look and smell like a hot mess. She decided on a shower first, and good on Ignis for having a spare bedroom with a bathroom attached. She slowly crawled out from under the covers, still in leggings and hoodie and old high school t-shirt from the day before; and Ignis must’ve been standing outside of the door because as soon as the covers rustled with movement, there was a knock. 

“Come in,” __________ said, voice low and raw.  

She didn’t meet Ignis’ gaze as he entered the room, carrying what could only be her suitcases from her apartment. Ignis set them in the corner of the room and knelt down in front of her.  

“My dear,” he said quietly. “Are you all right?” 

___________ shrugged. She’d turned her phone off after Iggy’d picked her up in a part of Insomnia she never should have been in, after she’d seen things she never wanted to see.  

“Noct and Gladio are worried about you, and I as well. The least you can do is answer their messages. Noctis doesn’t like to pull rank but he will if he gets angry enough. You answer to him, so don’t forget that. I’ve excused your missed training for today, but I cannot continue to do so. Whatever is going on, you have to confront it. You owe all of us an explanation, if not for being your colleagues, then at least for being your friends.” 

___________ hadn’t exactly told Ignis what had happened, but out of anyone, she supposed he should know. He was the first one to know about her little crush on Prompto—well, it’d been little back then. Now it was the size of the whole world, and the weight was suffocating. ___________ didn’t miss the fact that Ignis had left Prompto’s name out of his lecture.  

“I...” She sighed. “I was in a bar—and before you say anything, yes, I’ll get rid of the fake ID. I’m sorry. I was wearing dark glasses and my hood was pulled up, no one recognized me or noticed me, just—spare me for now, okay?” 

Ignis bit his tongue and waited for her to continue.  

“I saw...I saw Prompto. And I saw him...buy this girl a drink. Or maybe a few drinks, I don’t know. The way he _l_ _ooked_ at her, Ignis, it was just... And then...and then he left with her. Her hand...her hand was on his ass as they left the bar. I mean he probably took her to bed. And I was...I just can’t...I just can’t take it.” The tears started coming again, softer, quieter, this time. “It’s just not fair. It’s not fair how ridiculously in love with him I am, when  _he_ looks like  _that_ and I... I’m just...this.” She gestured to her lumpy self and sniffed, hard. “I wish the gods never gave me these stupid powers. I wish I never moved here. I wish I’d never met him.” 

“You don’t mean that,” said Ignis, pained.  

“If it’d spare me feeling like this, yeah, I really fucking do mean it.” __________ met his gaze, finally.  

Astrals, Ignis was beautiful even when he was mad or upset—a frown did nothing to disrupt his chiseled features and __________ lamented this fact, silently. “I won’t pretend to know much about the matters of the heart. I do not wish to interfere—what goes on between you and Prompto is private, and you should resolve matters with him. But would confessing your feelings really be so terrible?” 

She scoffed. “I’m gonna need you to think about what you just said. Be real, Ignis. This isn’t a romantic comedy. Girls like me don’t get the guy. I’m the dumpy comic relief. The thin, pretty girl gets the guy. The girl who doesn’t have anxiety. The girl who has nice nails and hair and teeth, the girl who’s not so socially awkward it’s physically painful. They get the guys. Not me, Ignis. Never me.” ___________ sighed, then gestured to the suitcases in the corner of the room. “Uh, did you go get those? Thanks.” 

“My pleasure. Are you planning on staying long?” Ignis withdrew her apartment keys and placed them on the bed beside her.  

“If I’m a burden to you, I can go.” 

“I didn’t say that. Stay as long as you need to.” 

“Thank you, Ignis.” 

“Can you turn on your phone and reach out to Noct and Gladio, please?” 

“Yeah.” She reached for her phone in the sheets and brought it to life, text messages and missed call notifications suddenly flooding the screen. There were several from Prompto but she ignored them. She brought up Noct’s phone number and dialed.  

“Holy shit, HOLY SHIT, this is the longest you’ve gone without talking to me. Ignis said you’re at his place, that he picked you up last night in some alley. What where you doing there? Were you hurt? What’s going on?” Noctis, not usually excitable about anything more than games or fishing, babbled on for at least a minute, throwing out questions like he was on a timed game show.  

It brought _________ to quiet tears again. “Noctis, I’m so sorry for making you worry. I’m...I’m fine. Physically...physically fine. Please...please don’t hate me. I can’t...I don’t want to talk about what happened, not right now.” 

“Okay, that’s okay. Where are you, are you with Ignis?” 

“Yeah, I’m staying with him. For now, anyway. Uh. Is Gladio with you?” 

“Yeah, we just got done training. Missed you today.” 

“I’m really sorry. I’ll come tomorrow, I promise. Can I say hi to him?” 

“Uh, sure.” A shuffle, then a decidedly older, deeper voice got on the line. “Y’know, you can’t be the only girl in a party of five and disappear for over a day and not expect anyone to worry about you.” 

“I’m sorry, Gladio. I really am.” 

“You just scared us, sweetheart. You shoulda heard Iggy’s voice last night when he was going to pick you up. Don’t ever think you aren’t special to us, all right?” 

__________ bit her lip and nodded. “Ye-yeah. Thanks Gladio. I promise I’ll be at the Citadel tomorrow.” 

“Good girl. See ya. Keep Iggy in line for us.” 

She chuckled. “I will.” Silence, then, Noctis, “Hey, so before you go, Prom says he can’t get a hold of you. Is there a reason...I mean, did something happen?” 

“I...I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“I...” 

“Noct, please.” 

The prince grunted. “Fine.” His voice softened. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” 

“Right. Bye Noct.” 

“See ya.”  

___________ hung up the phone and sighed. “I’m sorry I fucked up, Iggy.” 

“You did nothing of the sort. You just have to promise to communicate from now on, okay, love? But, a word of advice. Prompto is a grown adult, and a man, at that. You must realize that he has needs. Whether you think those needs should be met by you or not, Prompto is not obligated to check in with anyone about what he does in his private life. If his actions upset you,  _you_ need to go to him and speak with him. As it stands, he has no idea why you’re giving him the silent treatment. If you were at the same establishment yesterday, and kept your presence hidden, how would you expect him to know you were there, watching him?” 

Goddamn Ignis and his being  _right_ all the time, ___________ internally cursed. She knew she was being over-dramatic. Prompto  wasn’t beholden to her except in her fantasies—of course he deserved to have a hookup in a bar.  Of course he deserved to have sex. They were friends, right? Prom had said it himself, multiple times, that she and Noctis were his best friends. She wanted Prompto to be happy. Only...only, it hurt, it hurt more than she could bear, that Prompto wasn’t doing those things with  _her_. ___________ sighed again. Was she ever going to be able to tell Prompto how she felt?  

 

___________ got to the Citadel training facilities much earlier than usual, since Ignis had woken up at his usual 5 am, and sleep wasn’t coming easily to her anyway; she she’d gotten up and joined him for coffee, and breakfast—living with Ignis was something she could get used to, dammit, why didn’t she just move in with him after she’d turned eighteen?—and the morning news; and together, they went over meeting minutes and council reports and new glaive recruit schedules. She’d showered and dressed in gym clothes to start the day, packing her official fatigues in order to do her guard duty from six to midnight later that evening. Bless Ignis for packing a thorough suitcase and toiletry bag. She rode in silence with him to the ever-overwhelming palace, then parted ways as he went to his office and she headed down to the Citadel gym.  

The largest room was completely empty, the one set up with wooden dummies that had seen everything from gunfire to swordplay to elemental magic. ___________ breathed and dropped her gym bag in the corner, shrugging off the hoodie, which just left her in a black tank top and leggings. She stretched a little, and then sat cross-legged in a meditative state, delving deep into herself to access the well of magic within her, beginning the first part of her training: focus.  

 

“Hey, here you are! Man, am I glad to see you—” 

“Fucking  _shit_ —” __________ was on her feet and hurling a fire spell at the sudden voice behind her, barely even registering just  _who_ it was that she’d sent flying into a (thankfully) padded wall until several seconds later.  

Noctis was on his ass, shirtless and in just some loose-fitting gym shorts, patting his hair to put out the flames, smoke circling his body and slowly dissipating. His face was twisted in to something like concern and shock together, bare chest heaving under the stress of the unexpected blow.  

__________ clamped her hand over her mouth and groaned. “Fuck, Noctis! Fuck.” She jogged over to him and knelt. “Dude, fuck, shit. Are you okay? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Fuck me, I’ve just tried to assassinate the prince of—” 

“Dude,” said Noctis, chuckling, patting out the last singe on his basketball shorts. “It’s okay. I’m fine, really. Uh. That was some hit. I couldn’t have done much better.” 

“It was accident, oh gods, I  _swear_. Please don’t tell Gladio.” 

“Hey, _________, it’s okay. We’ll, uh. Chalk it up to a sparring match. You totally got me. I’ll go tell Cor right now that you bested the prince. He might promote you to eight-hour guard shifts.” Noctis gave a wicked smirk.  

___________ narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”  

The prince laughed. “Nah, I know six hours is pretty long in the first place. But dude, hey,” and Noctis brought one of his pretty, strong hands up to cup her face, “Can you please tell me why you’ve been acting so weird? Why you’re spending the night with Iggy? Why you won’t talk to Prompto? He's been a wreck since yesterday. He misses you.” 

___________ scoffed. “I don’t believe it. He didn’t seem to miss me two nights ago when he was picking up girls at the bar.” 

“I...what?  _Prompto_?” Noctis’ hand dropped.  

And this is where the tears fell again and the anxiety went into overdrive.  

Noctis waited for her to explain.  

“I... okay, so I got a fake ID, okay? Sometimes I just get really stressed and I need a drink, or to go out somewhere where no one recognizes me and I can be invisible. Don’t even lecture me, Ignis has already given me the  _look_ about it.” 

Noctis laughed weakly.  

“Anyway...the other night I was just chillin’, y’know, with my drink and my food, sort of in disguise, don’t worry—and, and Prompto comes in the bar, too, only he doesn’t see me, and he sits and  _he_ orders a drink—so to be honest, he needs to get chewed out, too. Anyway. Like an hour later this girl comes in—she was pretty hot, Noct, I won’t even lie, and Prompto practically falls off the stool watching this girl. You know how Gladio looks at girls? It was  _that_ look, man. And he totally gave the bartender money to pay for her drinks. And then like fifteen minutes later he leaves with her—they were holding  _hands_ , she was grabbing his  _ass_ ...I mean, I just...fuck. And it’s just...does he not want to be my friend anymore? Is he getting tired of me?” __________ danced carefully around the  _real_ subject—Ignis knew about her thing for Prompto, but she’d never wanted to bother Noctis with her stupid feelings.  

Noctis’ pretty, exotic face went sour. “That asshole. He told me he couldn’t have a movie marathon because he had to work late.” 

“Oh...oh man.” 

“And  _you_ —you told me you weren’t feeling well.” 

___________ hung her head. “I’m sorry for lying to you,” she whispered. “I just...I needed alone time.” 

“Then you should’ve just told me. Dude. I’m not going to be mad if you tell me no to hanging out. I’m not going to kick you out of the Crownsguard or stop being your friend. Please just be honest with me from now on, yeah?” The hand reaches back to her face and wipes away her tears.  

____________ sniffed again, hard. “I don’t...I don’t deserve you, Noct. I’m so sorry.” 

“Fuck no, I don’t deserve you! Let's put this behind us, okay? We cool? I’m over it now, promise.” 

“Ye-yeah,” she said nervously. _________ put her hand on top of Noct’s hand that was still on her cheek and allowed healing to flow outward and through him, mending any minor scrapes and burns she might’ve inflicted.  

Noctis’ eyes fluttered closed and he sighed gently with satisfaction. “Thanks,” he whispered sleepily.  

___________ blushed a little—which wasn’t new, she usually blushed around all of them, just around Prompto the most. “It’s the least I could do for almost, like. Killing you.” She dropped her hand.  

Noctis opened his eyes and let his palm fall back beside him. “So, okay. You’re upset because Prompto was...because he picked up a girl at a bar. You’re afraid...” 

“I don’t want to lose him as a friend.” 

“If you saw him, why didn’t you tell him you were there?” 

She stayed silent.  

“Why would a random hookup keep him from being friends with you? Look, I bet he doesn’t even remember her name. Why would...” Noctis inhaled sharply, then blurted “You  _like_ him! I  _knew_ it!” 

“Aaaaaaaah, no! No no no!” _________ put her head in her hands and groaned. “Please don’t tell him,” she said, all resolve gone.  

“But, you have to—” Noctis started.  

“I said don’t say anything!” she roared, head in her hands, body sunk low and inward, anxiety riddling her again, sobs getting louder and more violent.  

Noctis sat up, scooting over to his medic and wrapping himself around her. They stayed like that for a long while, until __________ calmed down enough to do some decent sparring.  

 

The next week is a blur for the five of them. __________ doesn’t leave Ignis’ apartment and settles into a weird, domestic routine with the adviser. She spends eight, ten hours a day at the Citadel beating the absolute shit out of training dummies and any Kingsglaive that dares to tease her or call her soft. Cor  _somehow_  hears about her knocking Noctis on his ass and he  _laughs_ and promotes her to guarding the  _front door_ of the Citadel instead of the west garden; __________ is ruthless in their sparring matches in retaliation and Noctis just giggles as they hurl lightning and ice and fire at each other, blowing off steam. Gladio isn’t in on the true inside scoop of the situation, only knowing that it’s some sort of miscommunication between Prompto and _________, and he figures these dumb kids will sort it out eventually, so he continues his daily grind of trying to mold Noctis into someone capable of protecting himself. Ignis continues his routine of cooking and cleaning for Noctis, state meetings, and all of his usual business; __________ takes it upon herself to relieve him of the cooking and cleaning in his own apartment since she’d just barged in like a mother-in-law who overstays her welcome.  

Prompto stopped trying to text her after the third day of being left on  _read;_ and when Ignis cooks dinner at Noct’s, ___________  shows up early and eats the first available helping, begs Noct to text Prompto about the food only as she’s stumbling back into her combat boots and bolting before he can get home from work. The blond has practically moved in with Noctis and does little else except go to work and come home to the prince. He doesn’t ride his  motorcycle—he doesn’t even  _want_ anyone else on the motorcycle except for _________, but how can he tell her that, she won’t talk to him. He doesn’t take pictures at the park. He stalks ___________’s social media like a creep and cries and masturbates at night and he regrets, he  _regrets_ , because all Noctis has told him is that she’d seen his desperate shenanigans at the bar and now he’s worried about losing her as a friend, and he’d never meant to make anyone hurt over a stupid one-night stand. When Noct had seen him again, three days after his cheap thrill, he’d lit Prompto's ass up like a fireworks display until Prompto was on his knees in front of the prince, charred and scorched—and he deserved that, probably, Prompto thought—begging forgiveness about sneaking off into seedy bars; but where was ___________, and why wasn’t she answering, and how could he  _fix_ this?  

If Prompto had known that his efforts to forget about his best—and only—female friend would only make her this viciously jealous and push her away, he never would have done it, not in a million years. He secretly gleaned her guard schedule from Gladio, and the first night he’d tried to approach the steps of the Citadel, a white-hot bolt of lightning had landed about three feet in front of him, and he’d yelped and landed flat on his ass. He stared up at the gates and saw her in front of them, her short, round figure pressed into a Crownsguard uniform, mad as shit. Prompto walked away with a figurative tail between his legs and didn’t approach the palace again for another three days. That time, it was ice, a miniature blizzard falling on him and him alone, leaving him shivering although it was the middle of June. He turned away again, scowling. If she wouldn’t answer his messages, and was avoiding him around Noct and the others, and wouldn’t even let him get to the front door of the Citadel...he’d walked away that night, dusting snow from his vest, dialing Ignis’ number.  

 

Just over a week after the  _incident_ , as she’d called it, and she was already feeling the effects of being mad at Prompto, for blocking him out of her life. She was eating less than half her usual food consumption, falling into fits of restless sleep, trying to distract herself by throwing herself headfirst into extra exercise that she didn’t even  _like. ____________ was at a breaking point. She knew she needed to make up with Prompto, but she was also desperately waiting for him to try to come her again, though she pushed him away at the Citadel and was avoiding him on the phone. Ignis must’ve been working another late night, she reasoned, so she caught the bus home to Ignis’ and let herself in with the spare key. Sighing, she shuffled out of her boots and jacket and went to her bedroom to get out of the rest of her uniform, when she stopped dead in the doorway.  

Prompto was seated cross-legged on the spare bed where she’d been making her home for the past nine days, hands folded between his legs, staring at the door. Like he’d been waiting.  

“Hi,” he breathed, and  _gods_ , he looked like a wreck. His eyes were sunken in, red and puffy—had he been crying? He looked paler than usual, and skinnier, if that could even happen. His hair wasn’t even fixed up, it was flat against his head like it had been last year. __________ just stood and stared at him. He was still beautiful.  

“Look,” he continued. “I’m sorry for whatever I did. Please, please just talk to me. Don’t shut me out anymore.” 

“I,” _________ started, and her voice hitched.  

Prompto was actually crying now, quivering. “Just talk,” he said, wrecked. “It’s so good...I’ve missed your voice...” 

“Prompto.”  

A hard sniff at his name, hands coming up to wipe away tears, leather jacket sleeves wet. “Don’t leave me,” he whimpered. “Please. I’m sorry. Please.” 

“I thought...I thought you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.” 

“Wha...why would you think that?!” Prompto’s big blue eyes went wide. “I don’t...why would I ever want to lose you?” 

“I don’t know, Prom! It’s just...it was so unlike you, in a place like that...it wasn’t...wasn’t safe...” Her voice trailed.  _And you weren’t with me_ , were the unspoken words that followed in her head.  

“If you were there too, why didn’t you say anything?” 

“You looked like...like you didn’t wanna be bothered. And then...and then you met that girl...” 

“You were jealous?” 

“I thought I was being replaced. I couldn’t...I was so mad. I’m sorry. I’ve dealt with this all wrong.” 

Prompto let out a long exhale. “I’m sorry too. We’ve both been kinda stupid, huh?” 

“It wasn’t fair for me to get so upset about it. You’re an adult. You can do what you want. I just...it’s not easy for me to make friends. I was afraid...that you wanted to hang out with a girl...who wasn’t me. And I panicked.” 

“I did, actually,” Prompto quietly confessed. “I was...I was trying something that I thought was normal to do. Gladio makes it so easy, y’know, hitting on girls, going on dates. The gods must’ve been feeling merciful that night. I was internally screaming the entire time. And I was drunk off my ass, besides. That, uh. That kinda helped. You know I’m no good at that kind of thing.”  

“Did...actually...” 

“Did actually wonder what it was like to hang out with a girl who wasn’t you.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. It sucked. I’m never doing it again.” Prompto held up his right hand with his pointer and middle finger raised. “Scout’s honor. You’re irreplaceable, dude.” 

__________ smiled weakly. She still hadn’t moved from the door. She was hurt, a little, but at least he was being honest. At least they were talking. “Can we just...can we just go back to how it was before? Between us?” 

“It’s awful, only having one best friend. Noct doesn’t have that girlish charm, y’know. So yeah. Totally. Please. Please don’t shut me out anymore. I promise, I’ll...I should’ve just told you what I was doing.” 

“Prompto. I...as long as you still want to be friends with me, then yeah. I’m sorry I overreacted. I’m sorry I got jealous.” 

“The back seat of my motorcycle feels weird without you on it. I’ve barely ridden it. I haven’t gone to the park to take pictures. I haven’t even played King’s Knight. That’s...my life has been a wreck without you. It’s been totally lame.” 

“ _Bro_ , what? There's a seasonal event on right now, you’re gonna miss all the cool skins!” __________ bounded over to the bed, trying to play it cool around the guy who’d just said he’d been massively depressed without her around. She brought out her phone and opened the mobile game, sitting on the edge.  

“So, uh. Does this mean you’re not gonna elemental magic me to death?” Prompto moved to sit beside her, legs dangling off the side of the mattress.  

“Oh, uh. Sorry about that.” 

“It’s fine. It was, uh, cool. Seeing you do it, anyway. You’re super strong.” 

“When I get super emotional my magic is more powerful. I work on controlling it, daily. I meditate a lot.” 

Silence, and then the game loaded and ___________ scrolled through all of the game announcements for the event that had started a few days prior.  

“Hey, hey Prom.” 

“Oh man, I like that one,” Prompto said, pointing to one of the new attainable suits of armor for the main character. “Yeah? What’s up?” 

“Did you...mean it? When you said your life was a wreck without me?” 

“Dude, I would never joke about that. I meant it.” Prompto brought one arm up and wrapped it around her shoulder, coaxing her into leaning to his side and putting her head on his shoulder. It was all he could do not to kiss the top of her head, opting instead to lean his cheek against her soft hair as he watched her play one of the new campaigns of the game. Maybe...maybe something  _more_ would come in time. For now, Prompto was content with ___________ just like this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY FUCK GUYS this is a million words long, but uh, honestly I needed this angst. So much angst. So much sexual tension in here AND YA'LL KNOW THEY DON'T SAY ANYTHING UNTIL THE CANON GAME EVENTS, WHY CAN'T THESE DORKS JUST CONFESS. (Noct and Iggy are just dying to tell them but they don't, the little shits.) 
> 
> Anyway. I hope you're enjoying all these little side shots, Reader. Enjoy your quality Prompto time (even if you did try to electrocute him).


	4. "Riding" in the Regalia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick and dirty car sex, ayyyyyyyy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is 1000000000% self-indulgent, I'm not even sorry  
> _____  
> Post-Lestallum, so you and Prom are having sex on the regular, and everyone knows about your relationship. Pre-Altissia because I needed something kinda happy. 
> 
> Also Prompto getting emotional during sex and crying is one of my kinks, don't @ me

You’re in Duscae, in the Causcherry Plains, because Noctis has heard about some obscure fishing spot in some super-tough cavern full of goddamned  _necromancers_ , and that’s one fishing trip you’d rather avoid.  

“Wussing out?” asks Gladio as you stubbornly refuse to leave the back seat. Prompto and Noct have been switching places—Prompto still prefers the front seat for better photo ops, but now that your relationship is out in the open, he makes no move to hide his affection for you and requests to sit in the back most days. He’s stubbornly possessive, opting to sit in the middle seat so you’re not next to Gladio. The shield just laughs and pats him on the shoulder, doing less to tease the both of you, now, and offering more encouragement on your budding relationship. The royal arms hunt has been going well, Noctis is halfway through collecting them, but you’re so tired— 

“You don’t gotta be so mean, Gladdy,” Prompto says, folding his arms.  

“Are you sure you’re not coming?” asks Ignis, voice neutral as he folds up the map and exits the car. Noctis is around by the trunk, unloading his fishing gear and sliding it into the Armiger, as if the ancient weapons storage is also his closet. Well. Gladio keeps  _lube_ in there, so what’s a fishing rod and some lures? 

“We should, uh. Hunt for...lost items. And protect the car,” you offer weakly. It’s nowhere near sunset but that doesn’t mean danger won’t approach. “I’m sorry, Ignis, I’m just not up for this right now.”  

Ignis nods, lip curling up on one end like he just  _knows_ —and he probably does. He looks at Prompto. “I take it you’re staying with your love?” 

“I,” Prompto squeaks. “Yeah. I’d feel better if she weren’t alone. Don’t worry Iggy, we’ll be productive. Maybe we’ll join you in a bit?” 

Ignis nods, then turns to follow Noct and Gladio, who are already jogging away from the car.  

You and Prompto wait until the others are out of sight and earshot. You both exit the back seat—he sits in the passenger seat and pushes the button on the middle console that converts the car back to a covered vehicle, and as the top closes, you launch yourself into the front, door slamming behind you, straddling the slender blond.  

Prompto smells like sweat and gunpowder and tastes like the spicy curry Ignis cooked up for lunch—and you can’t help but whine into his mouth as he kisses you hard; slender long fingers digging into your soft, plush hips, squeezing and kneading into your flesh like he can’t ever get enough.  

It’s only been a few minutes but the car isn’t running and the windows are starting to fog up already, and— 

“Prompto,” you moan, breaking the kiss and moving to the side of his pale, freckled neck, planting wet, open-mouthed kisses along his warm skin.  

“I’ve been...dreaming of fucking you in this car,” Prompto mutters, voice low and husky with desire.  

“Fuck, Prom, I...” You bury your head in his shoulder as you seat yourself as low as your thick thighs will let you, and Prompto shifts you in his strong arms and cants his hips up hard between your legs, and already you can feel his arousal though his coeurl-print jeans. He brings one hand from your waist and cups your core through your fatigues, making you cry out.  

“Say my name,” Prompto growls, jaw set into a hard line as he bites his lip and fiddles with your zipper.  

“Prompto! Prompto, please, baby, touch me,” you whine, breath coming in shallow pants, and your hands are around his shoulders, buried in the back of his spiked blond hair, holding on hard for purchase  and then his hands are right where you want them.  

Prompto loosens your belt, button, and zipper and deftly sticks one hand down past your underwear, and fuck, you don’t even care that he still probably has gun oil on them from cleaning his guns after the last hunt—it was fucking hot, watching Prompto brace himself against a boulder and take out three Reaperkings in the time it took for Noct and Gladio to attack just one—just as long as he presses _t_ _here_ and, oh, he  _does,_ and it’s beyond satisfying— “So wet for me,” he murmurs, sighing deeply.  

“Only for you,” you cry back, rolling your hips, fucking yourself on his hand. “Always, only for you, you know that...” 

Prompto throws his head back and moans, continuing his ministrations in your wet heat until your clit is swollen with arousal and he’s pumping two fingers in and out of you with ease. He pulls out, and you whine at the loss, but he puts them in his mouth to taste you, and fuck,  _fuck_ , Prompto rarely looks as hot as he does when you’re both in the throes of passion and he’s shedding the shy, innocent “sunshine” boy façade and acting on pure, primal desire. He swiftly loses his loose-fitting black shirt, throwing it with abandon to the driver's seat; and then he’s all lean bare chest, flushed from bellybutton up, and you can’t help but look down at him and bite your lip.  

“L-like what you see?” He teases, laughing.  

“You know I do, Prom.” 

“Isn’t it nice that you can, uh...ogle me out in the open, now, without having to hide it?” 

“Honestly I was never very good at hiding it, you know.” 

Prompto giggles and covers your face, lips included, in a dozen little kisses. “You really weren’t. That time in the junkyard? Bro, I totally knew you were staring. I just thought it was a general, ‘girls like looking at guys’ thing. I didn’t realize it was, y’know,  _me._ Specifically.”  

You give Prompto a big, loud laugh. “I was pretty hopeless back then. But. But now I can stare at you all I want and it’s okay, because I know you’re staring back.” 

“Dude” says Prompto as he slides your Crownsguard jacket from your shoulders and lifts off your shirt, leaving you in only a lacy black bra, “I’m literally  _always_ staring at you.” 

“Mmmmmm.” Your hands are pressed flush against Prompto’s chest, pinching and flicking his nipples, and one of his hands is back down your jeans, and the other is kneading a breast through the thin lace.  

“This part of your Crownsguard uniform?” Prompto teases again, waggling his eyebrows.  

“You’re such a dork,” you say, giggling, grinding down on the hand in your dripping cunt. “No, I, uh. I bought it in Lestallum. Thought...thought you’d like it.” 

“You’re just getting around to wearing it? Fuck dude, please wear this like, all the time.” Prompto slides his hand under the underwire of one cup, then the other, and then the bra is pushed up to your collarbones, leaving you bare-breasted in front of him, and Prompto dives down and sucks, hard.  

“Fuck, Prompto—” Your hips buck up hard into his hand, slender trigger fingers still inside of you, and the dam that has been slowly cracking suddenly has a hole in it, and Prompto’s fingers combined with his mouth on your big, sensitive breast is too good, too overwhelming—you find yourself slipping further and further into pleasure, rolling your hips as Prompto pulls one finger from your depths to rub soft circles around your clit, and you feel that wave cresting, cresting, until— 

Prompto senses your release and brings his mouth to yours, swallowing your moans and breathless pleas of his name as his hand fucks you through your orgasm; then his mouth moves to suck again on one hard pert, red nipple, tongue and teeth claiming the fatty expanse of breast for himself and no one else; and Prompto can’t ever imagine wanting anything more than you, in this moment, open and pliant and so, so wet for him, _only_ for him; screaming his name like a prayer, bucking your hips into his hand as though you needed it to live; and he knows he’ll never need anyone else ever again, not when he has you to love him so wholly, unconditionally, all at once his best friend and his lover, and he tears up, he can’t help himself—he tears up as he looks at your face, all wrecked and flushed, hair stuck to your forehead, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open and panting as your orgasm starts to come down. Prompto feels a clench in his heart and he feels like he’s going to burst.  

He reluctantly withdraws his hands from you and you collapse on his shoulder, and he shudders at the contact, arms immediately circling you and pulling your bare chest to his, and there’s that spark again, the one he’s always felt while hugging you, although now it’s amplified, now that you’re a proper  _couple_ , and Prompto’s crying again, burying his face in your neck. 

“What’s wrong, Prom?” you ask, breathless, as that sharp chin and pointed nose sink into the soft junction of neck and shoulder, and it’s wet, suddenly, and you know that he’s teary-eyed.  

“I’m just...fuck. I’m so in love with you, _____________. I’m so happy,” and Prompto plants another kiss to your skin.  

“I love you so much Prompto. So, so much.” You scratch his scalp lightly, dragging your short fingers through his hair, and he almost purrs.  

He stays hugging you for a while longer, and you’ve almost fallen asleep, when you finally sense movement below and realize that your boyfriend is still hard in his pants. 

“_____________,” Prompto breathes.  

You sit up, finally shrugging off your bra and dropping it to the driver’s seat along with your long-discarded jacket and shirt. “What do you want, Prompto?” You cup the side of his face and he leans into it, sighing contentedly and smiling.  

He looks up at you through long eyelashes, baby blue eyes dilated to near-complete black pupils, freckles dark on flushed, red cheeks. “I want you to ride me.” 

“Oh, yes,” you breathe. “Fuck, Prompto, I’ve wanted you all day.”  

“Mmmmmm,” Prompto hums. “What got you so ready to go?” 

“Watching you shoot,” you say, running your hands up and down the blond’s hard, strong arms. His biceps are dirty, his face ruddy with sun exposure and gunpowder and little flicks of metal from rapidly-discarded bullets, and you’re thinking that he can’t get any more gorgeous than what he is now, and then he’s reaching down to palm his groin— 

“Battle action got your adrenaline pumping, huh?” He teases. “Lift up for me, baby,” and how can you do anything except obey him?  

You lift up, doing an awkward sideways bend so Prompto can wiggle out of his boots and jeans and boxer-briefs—the chocobo-print ones,  _of course_ he’s wearing the chocobo-print ones—and then he’s helping you shimmy off the thick cargo pants you’re wearing; and finally combat boots and jeans and underwear are all discarded, piled in the front seat in a scene that would make Ignis faint, and you and Prompto are naked now, desert heat creeping into the Regalia, the smell of sweat, sex, gunpowder, and cheap hotel shampoo permeating the heavy air as Prompto spits into his palm and strokes himself once, twice, and then you’re lining yourself up with him, sinking down.  

“Oh fuck,” says Prompto, shifting, rolling his hips to sink further home. “How do you always...feel so fucking good?” He’s hugging you to himself, strong hands under your thick cheeks as he simultaneously brings you down hard on top of him while he’s thrusting up into you.  

“I...shit, shit, fuck, Prompto,” is all you can muster, all rational thought gone; your arms are circled tight around his neck and you’re hanging on for dear life, head buried in the crux of his neck, teeth sinking into pale, freckled flesh and Prompto hisses at the pleasure-pain and his pace increases, chasing his release.  

And in your mind all you can think of is how nice it is to be held like this, for someone to be physically  _able_ to hold you like this and make love to you in the front seat of a vintage car without telling you you’re too big or it’s too hard—Prompto's so strong already, but you’ve been seeing him do push-ups and wake up early to train with Gladio; and a rare, positive thought appears in your anxious brain, that maybe Prompto is trying to get strong so he can lift you, carry you, not just with the aid of water like back in the ocean at Galdin, but to scoop you up in his arms at any given time; and you moan at the thought. Prompto has this special way of making you feel small, and that’s the biggest thing in the world.  

Prompto’s pants bring you back to reality as you hear him grunt, “Oh baby, I’m coming,” and then you’re screaming, “Yes, Prompto, give it to me, fuck me,” and with a loud whimper he spills up into you, hips gyrating with erratic thrusts as you bring yourself down and down and down on top of him, clenching muscles to milk the sunshine boy for all he’s worth.  

 

A short time later you’re both cleaned up and dressed, and the Regalia’s sanitized—you insisted on dragging Ignis’ antibacterial wipes from the trunk and wiping the front seat down—and you’re doing what you promised you’d do, hunting for lost items to sell at the next merchant outpost; and you’ve found a few bangles, bracelets, potions and the like—Prompto immediately switches out his jewelry for items that give him more protection. After you've restored strength to both you and Prompto, you head off in the direction of the Daurell Caverns, slicing through a horde of hecteyes lingering just outside the caves, with Prompto blasting the all-seeing monsters with poisoned bullets from his Calamity.  

But then you hear voices, and Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio are all emerging from the caves, looking a little worn—but Noct has a tired smile on his face, indicating that his fishing trip was successful. You jog up to them and immediately call forth another healing spell, much to the satisfaction of the three men in front of you, but then, 

“Uh,” says Noctis. “Wasn’t...wasn’t Prompto wearing that Wiz Chocobo Post t-shirt before?” 

You look down, and sure enough, you’re in  _Prompto’s_ shirt, the one that he’d been wearing before you’d taken each other in the car, and you’re looking back up at Noctis, face red and heart pounding. “Um, y’see...” 

Gladio’s laughing and moving to slap Prompto on the back. “Nice job, kid,” he’s saying, like he’s always proud of Prompto for getting laid on the road.  

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, and then you’re looking to Ignis, who’s folding his arms and looking horrified.  

“Please tell me you,” he starts.  

“We cleaned up the seat with the antibacterial wipes!” you’re screaming, cutting him off, head in your hands.  

“In the  _car_?!” Noctis is whining. “Holy shit, dude.” 

Prompto’s saying nothing, looking embarrassed, eyes cast downward; but he’s gathered the fabric of your plain black t-shirt in his hands and is rubbing the material between his fingers, lovingly.  

“Let’s,” you groan. “Let’s go switch shirts back, Prom. Uh. Behind that tree.” You point. 

“I don’t wanna take it off,” Prompto mutters. “It smells like you.” 

“I’m gonna puke,” says Noctis, but he’s laughing, and he claps a hand on your shoulder. “Didja find any good stuff?” 

You swallow your embarrassment and present him with an itemized list of the items and elixirs you’d found around the area, as well as the schematics of the battle with the hecteyes. Ignis looks placated a little, and Gladio’s less mad, now, for the two of you “wussing” out on the caverns. Noctis talks about his fish all the way back to the car, and when you approach it, the other three stop—you and Prompto not noticing until you’re several steps ahead of them.  

“Hey, Noct, can we...” Prompto’s voice trails and he turns. The prince is standing a few feet back, arms folded. “Oh come  _on_!” 

“Nah-ah, don’t give me that,” Noctis scowls. " _You’re_ the one who had sex in my  _dad’s_ car!” 

“It was...we didn’t even get anything anywhere!” Prompto pouts. “And you heard ____________, we totally wiped it down.” 

“Then  _you_ sit in the front. Iggy, we’re going back to Hammerhead to get the leather replaced.” 

Prompto groans, exasperated.  

“I’ll pay for it,” you pipe up. “I’ll take on a few hunts by myself.” 

“You will not,” says Prompto. “I’ll pay for it!” 

“With what cash?” Gladio asks, eyebrow raised.  

“Uh,” says Prompto as he empties his pockets. “Fifty gil and some lint?” 

“That’ll barely buy three meals at Takka’s,” says Ignis, annoyed. “Come on. Let’s all get out of the elements—maybe Cindy will be merciful on the price.” 

“Well  _I’m_ not paying for it,” says Noctis, rounding the back of the car and taking his usual spot.  

Prompto frowns but takes the infamous front seat, bringing out his camera to distract himself with pictures as Ignis drives. Gladio opens the other back door and you slide in the middle, and he sits on the other side, sandwiching you between himself and the prince, who’s already leaned his head back on the seat in a light doze. 

As Ignis pulls away and turns the car in the direction of Hammerhead station, Prompto turns around to face you, and he winks.  

You giggle. A few extra hunts might be an annoying price to pay for defiling the Regalia, but with the way Prompto’s looking at you and blushing, you can’t help but think it was totally worth it.  


	5. Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (God forgive me for the sacrilegious hymn title of this chapter, but uh; when you're sixteen and you see Prompto, he might as well be your religion, amiright? Lmao)  
> \--------
> 
> A short drabble of the first meeting between you, the reader; Noctis; and Prompto.

_First day of high school. I can do this. I can do this. I can..._ Your voice trailed as the bus pulled up to the bus stop a few blocks from your house. There were others dressed identical to you already on the pristine public transport, other girls in the skirt-and-blazer combo of Insomnia High. They looked at you and you smiled back... _not too wide, but not too demure, don’t_ _wanna_ _seem_ _high and mighty_ _, have to radiate friendly vibes..._ but the other girls just gave you resting bitch faces and looked away.  _So much for first impressions_ , you thought as you looked down and occupied yourself with a few mobile games on the way to school.  

 

The gods were clearly not on your side today. You’d forgotten your locker combination, had been issued a PE uniform that was one size too small, had been short 200 yen for lunch and had to forgo almost half of your meal—and to make matters worse, you’d seen Noctis exactly once, and he’d merely nodded at you with recognition, but you were in different classes, and almost no one was making a move to talk to you. Not that you were blaming them—you were hardly the social butterfly. It was hard being the new kid, but it was even harder being the new _fat_ kid with a distinct accent that made people look at you like you had three heads. Not like the other transfer student from Tenebrae—all thin and posh and proper, lilted voice like warm cashmere and old books next to a roaring fireplace. The other students were  _flocking_ to be her friend...but, at least the teacher seemed to like you; after all you were the only one in class who could read old Lucian. _At least the introductory show-and-tell presentation tomorrow will be easy,_ you thought with a small smile as you wiggled your fingers and willed a few sparks of electricity to flow between them.  

Out of the corner of your eye during the last class of the day, you finally started to let yourself  _look_ at the students in your class. Most of them, you could tell, were nobility, or at least wealthy. Everyone was inhumanly attractive, almost along the same vein as Noctis and his retainers—seriously, what was in Insomnia’s water? Your gaze took in several of the boys around you, admiring their features...until your eyes fell on the skinny blond you’d seen earlier on the other side of the track field during PE. You sat a few chairs back and diagonal from him, so you could see at least half of his face. He had shaggy hair, a little long on the sides, cut into short, choppy layers; his uniform, both blazer and shirt were pushed up to the elbows, revealing smooth, toned forearms and a green and white wristband. You thought you could see a haphazard scatter of freckles along his cheeks, with long eyelashes coming down over half-lidded crystal blue eyes, lips pink and slightly chapped, open slightly in concentration; pointed nose and sharp jawline that could cut glass...and you felt your heart sink suddenly.  

You were no stranger to crushes—after all, you were sixteen, you were dead-center in the middle of adolescence and its beastly hormones, but you’d never had anyone return your affections (the one time you tried when you were fourteen ended in catastrophe and you’d sworn off liking boys for a whole year afterwards)...but it didn’t mean you didn’t  _look_ . And damn, were you looking now. Sure, you  _looked_ at Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio, but they were so off-limits—the retainers, especially, considering you were still a minor—but you knew that there was zero possibility of anyone wanting someone like you. Noctis was probably going to be set to some sort of arranged marriage anyway... your thoughts trailed back to the blond a few seats ahead and suddenly you felt your cheeks getting hot. The blond boy stretched and yawned, rotated his neck, and then...and then he  _turned_ , pale freckled cheeks and wide blue eyes meeting your startled gaze. A slight blush crept to his face when he noticed you staring, and he grinned, all toothy and wide and entirely too bright for one single person; and you quickly looked down, embarrassed that he’d caught you. You buried your nose in the book in front of you for several minutes before lifting your head again, but his attention was on the teacher now, no longer distracted enough to turn around.  

Gods, that  _smile_ —the boy was like pure, concentrated sunshine, bottled up and sent to earth to brighten the whole damn room. Funny, though; you hadn’t noticed him interacting with much of anyone either. You wondered if he was as shy as you were; if he, too, had trouble making friends. What was his voice like? Did he like video games too, or reading? Suddenly you were yearning to know everything about him...and then the bell rang, and before you could work up the nerve to approach him, he was out of the door, school bag trailing behind him, chocobo keychains clanging through the hallway.  _Maybe tomorrow._  

 

Outside, you finally caught up to Noctis, who looked a little more awake and prepared to talk. Noctis casually asked you how your classes were, making idle small talk as you followed him to the curb so he could wait for Ignis.  

“You, uh. Wanna come to the Citadel with me? To train? We can practice magic if you want.” 

“Oh-oh, I mean..if you’re sure? I’m not officially on the training schedule until next week, but if you think it would help, Prince Noctis...” You rubbed the back of your neck bashfully.  _Gosh. He really is too pretty to be real._   

“I told you, call me Noct. Yeah, I wanna spar against you.” Noct gave an easy smile.  

“Oh-okay! I’ll, um. I’ll text my parents, then...” 

“Yeah,” said Noctis. “Official Crownsguard business.” He winked.  

You blushed in spite of yourself and pulled out your phone and started to text your parents, when you felt the presence of another boy near you.  

“Hey there, Prince Noctis!” 

Noctis turned; you finished your message and slipped your phone into your jacket pocket, just in time to feel your brain turn to mush as the blond boy from your class jogged up to Noct and clapped him on the shoulder.  

“Huh?” answered the prince.  

“I’m Prompto! Nice to meet you!” He jerked a thumb at himself with those long, slender fingers.  

You watched as the prince gave Prompto a once-over, from his head to his feet and back again. The blond hadn’t noticed you yet, and so, quite shamelessly, you did the same.  _Dammit, he’s even more gorgeous up close!_  You felt your cheeks get hot again as you took in his slender frame, the easy way he carried himself, his lighthearted laugh, the constellations of freckles across his face, flushed with tinges of pink, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he closed them and smiled that wide grin, the way his blond hair framed his face... 

“Don’t I know you?” asked Noctis.  

The blond didn’t reply, he only laughed, and Noctis laughed in return, returning his casual touch.  

 _Just like that. Just like that, he introduces himself to the_ prince _and they’re laughing and touching like they’ve known each other forever._ You felt small and invisible, attempting to squeak out a sudden excuse to dip out on Noct’s invitation; but suddenly, the blond was peering around Noctis and staring you down like a hawk.  

“Oh, sorry! Who’s your friend?” Prompto looked from you to the prince.  

“Oh, uh, this is ___________,” Noctis put one hand on your shoulder and gestured to you with his other hand. “She’s part of my Crownsguard. Healing magic, mostly. Some elemental magic, like me.” 

Prompto’s eyes went wide. “Wha...no  _way_! Dude! That’s totally awesome!” Prompto held out a hand. “Nice to meet you too, __________!” 

You couldn’t take your eyes away from him, and mechanically raised your right hand. Prompto closed the distance and slotted your fingers together, wrapping his slender digits around your shorter, chubbier ones.  _So warm,_ was your first thought as you shook his hand and let your fingers fall away from his. “Hi...hi Prompto,” you managed, quietly. “I’m...uh, _________ __________.” Your throat felt like it was closing up and your hand was still tingling from the sensation of touching him.  

“Oh wow, she  _does_ speak!” Prompto laughed big and loud. “Oh em gee, I’m so excited. Here I was thinking I was only gonna make one friend today, but looks like I made  _two_! I’m a pretty lucky guy.” 

Noctis laughed. “Looks like it.” 

Prompto beamed, then met your gaze again and  _winked_.  

 _Astrals_ _,_ you screamed internally.  _I am in deep, deep shit._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be shorter but y'all know ya girl has a bad case of verbosity so have this 1k+ disaster. I give up trying to write *actual* drabbles.


	6. Well Come On, Come On, Let’s Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not-so-subtle tent sex between you and Prompto  
> _____  
> Credits to Paramore for the song "crushcrushcrush" and its lyrics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thanks to @flopity-flips for giving me drabble ideas/dialogue ideas. I would die without her; she gets credit for the ending!

Having your relationship out in the open with the other guys was a big relief. Gladio was complimenting Prompto more on his battle skills—he seemed more confident, more focused, and the shield had told you privately on more than one occasion that he was pretty sure it was your positive influence and unconditional love that was helping him truly hone his talents. Ignis noticed a distinct change in your demeanor, told you were having more confidence in yourself as a healer and in your elemental attacks on the battlefield—even though you sometimes got distracted looking at Prompto while he was concentrated in the heat of a fight. The way his biceps tensed when he was braced against a large boulder or pile of debris on the outskirts of the battlefield, aiming and shooting daemons or wild animals with pinpoint accuracy; his loud whoops of “Oh hi there, opening!” (which he’d used one time during sex and you’d laughed so hard you couldn’t continue until twenty minutes later); the way he moved, the way his face got flushed with adrenaline and sweat and the way he pulled you into mind-melting kisses after each intense encounter… And Noctis was over the moon for his two best friends,  _finally_ being able to see the both of you happy with each other after years of pining; and figuring out that you honestly  _liked_ Prompto several months before the trip, even though he’d had suspicions for years (you’d almost beat him over the head for not pushing the two of you together earlier until he pulled the “I’m royalty” card).  

What the guys did not appreciate as much, however, was…the questionable places that you and Prompto found to heed nature’s more primal urges. Cindy had nearly doubled over with laughter when the five of you had driven the car in and Noctis had very grumpily explained the front seat situation (she’d given the prince a major discount because of the unusual “circumstances” and slapped you on the back in a show of feminine solidarity, saying “You got yerself a good one there, girly. Keep ‘im, he’s got a good heart, and he’s cute too”). 

One overcast morning, you awoke slowly, immediately registering the discomfort of the hard haven ground, the thin padding underneath your sleeping bag doing little to alleviate the aches in your back. You turned over, registering an emptiness from Noct’s spot—Gladio must have drug him out for training and a run. You heard a clang of pans and the roar of a fire, meaning that Ignis was up and at ‘em with breakfast. You turned back over and settled down, blinking sleepily at Prompto, who was still resting peacefully beside you. The two of you had zipped your sleeping bags together very soon after your confession weeks prior, and after losing your virginity in Lestallum, you were finding it harder and harder to restrain yourself around Prompto. You were becoming more comfortable in your body, and when you felt Prompto blatantly staring, you were starting to wink back, lick your lips, or blow him a kiss—things that made him so flustered that he felt compelled to take you hard behind a tree away from camp later in the evenings. But this morning, you peeped a quick glance at your phone, still on half charge from the battery pack you and Prompto were sharing; it was almost seven am. You wondered if you had enough time to… 

Ignis popped his head in the tent, and you raised up a little to look at him.  

“Good morning, darling,” said the adviser, quietly. Ignis rarely dressed casually, but today he was somewhat dressed down in a black polo tucked into fitted black jeans; suspenders on but pushed off his shoulders and dangling at his sides. It was a good look, you decided.  

“Morning, Iggy.” You yawned. “Where are the others?” 

“Gladiolus just managed to drag Noct out for some sparring less than thirty minutes ago, so they’ll be gone for some time, I’d assume. I’m just starting on breakfast, so feel free to rest a bit longer. I know that Imperial attack yesterday wore you out.” His face softened.  

You bit your lip and looked down. There it was again—for all the confidence Prompto’s love was giving you, you still felt like you were the weakest link most of the time, usually throwing most of your energy into healing and rejuvenation spells, with rare elemental attacks for support or self-defense if an enemy wandered too far away from Noct, Iggy, and Gladio. Yesterday you’d stopped counting at a hundred MT soldiers, the small battalion getting the drop on you while doing a hunt for Wiz at the chocobo ranch (which was terribly difficult to get Prompto away from). The battle had lasted nearly an hour and had left you breathless even after three ethers to restore your wells of magic. You’d neglected yourself for the most part, much to the boys’ chagrin, and Prompto had carried you piggyback back to the nearby haven, his more rigorous training from Gladio starting to pay off. You’d only managed to eat a few bites of last night’s dinner before collapsing in exhaustion.  

“I’m…I’m sorry Ignis. I’ll be better.” 

“How can you possibly be better than you already are?” 

“Don’t lie to me. I’m the weakest link.” 

“I don’t think so. Neither does Noct, and you know Prompto certainly doesn’t. That battle yesterday took its toll on the lot of us. Today we’re laying low and discussing strategy.” 

“I just feel…” Prompto rustled beside you and you placed a hand on his hair, carding your hand through his soft blond locks. “Like I’m not good enough. I never have.” 

Ignis frowned but suddenly sniffed the air. “The oil should be sufficiently heated for our meal. We’ll continue our talk later, yes?” Ignis smiled warmly. “Rest with your love for now; I’ll let you know when breakfast is ready.” 

You returned his smile. “Sounds good Iggy. Thank you.” You settled back down as Ignis closed the tent flap and zipped it. Noting the deliberate gesture—the tent flap had been loose and hanging open before—you smirked to yourself and started to stroke Prompto’s face, determined to make the most of the rare moment of privacy at camp.  

Your boyfriend rustled a little more as you stroked his face and hair, letting your nails trail lightly down his neck and down to his collarbones—thank the Astrals he’d started sleeping shirtless unless the nights got unbearably cold. You repeated this motion as you brought your lips to his, kissing him even though his mouth was slack with sleep.  

After several minutes, though, Prompto cracked one eye and he smiled lazily as he registered you touching him. He nuzzled closer to you in your combined sleeping bag, reaching out his arms and bringing you flush against him. He pushed his face into your neck and sighed contentedly, and you shivered at the exhale of his breath on what little exposed skin was showing beneath your baggy sleep shirt. You moved to hook one leg over his slender form and brought your hands to his back, alternating light touches with more intense scratches like you knew he loved. You heard soft whimpers emanating from the crook of your neck and you laughed quietly.  

“Good morning, sunshine,” you whispered low in his ear, not missing the goosebumps that broke out when you flicked your tongue against his earlobe.  

“Mmmmmmm, definitely a good morning waking up to this,” he mumbled.  

“Hey,” you said, with a little more urgency. “Ignis just started breakfast. Noctis and Gladio are out training. I love snuggles but uh…it’s been a few days…y’know.” You wiggled your hips and heard his breath hitch.  

Prompto brought one bare arm to hike your chubby thigh up over his waist a little higher, and he brought you even closer, and there you felt it—the unmistakable morning wood through Prompto’s gray pajama pants. He exhaled slowly and you felt him open his mouth wider and then—a bite, a dull pain between your neck and shoulder, and you rolled your hips involuntarily and shuddered at the sensation of Prompto’s mouth no doubt leaving a very obvious hickey on your neck.  

“I’m so ready for you,” you heard him whisper.  

“Let me get ready for you, then,” you replied, and you broke away from him, already sighing at the loss of warmth but knowing that you’d be more than warm enough again soon. You quickly took off your shirt and threw it on your bag above your head, your panties and shorts following in one swift motion, leaving your soft round body naked against the cool cotton lining of the sleeping bag. Prompto scrambled to get his pants off—Astrals, he’d slept without boxer briefs on. You moaned softly as his sex became exposed to you.  

“I could look at you forever, Prom,” you said, dragging your gaze slowly over his athletic body and flushed, leaking manhood.  

“Say…same goes for you,” Prompto said, bringing his gaze up to you as you settled your eyes on his face. “You’re so beautiful and soft. Just...perfect,” he breathed, reaching out to lightly fondle your ample breasts.  

You blushed nervously, pushing those ever-present self-deprecating thoughts aside for time’s sake. There wasn't time to argue. You grabbed his wrist and guided it down between your legs, breath hitching when his slender fingers rubbed in and around your folds. You sighed and closed your eyes, letting the waves of pleasure wash over you as Prompto began his ministrations in your most sensitive places. He brought one arm under your head and gripped your long hair tight and pulled you into a heated kiss as he slowly worked a finger in and out of your pussy.  

“More, Prom,” you managed to breath between kisses and muffled your moans with your hand as Prompto pushed two fingers into you and curled them up, massaging your g-spot for a few minutes; then he withdrew them and began to finger fuck you hard. You bucked your hips at a wild pace, arching to try and get his fingers further inside of you. Your other free hand was gripped hard on his muscled shoulder, trying to find purchase as he worked you open and loosened you up. Your orgasm hit you a few minutes later; you clenched hard around his fingers and worked yourself on them until you were worn out and oversensitive. You collapsed back on the ground, blissed-out and breathless. 

You heard him growl, “Can’t take it anymore, ____________. I need you,” and his fingers were gone from inside of you as you came down from your high; your eyes were half-lidded in lust as you watch him lick your essence from his fingers and move to straddle himself above you. He reached quickly into the pocket of his discarded sleeping pants and pulled out a condom—not your favorite thing, but it only diminished the sensation a little bit and it meant less clean-up. He tore the foil packet and rolled it on with ease; then he unzipped his sleeping bag so that it was open but still draped on top of him, allowing for easy cover if he suddenly had to drop down and stop what he was doing. But there were no sounds besides Ignis’ soft humming and the roar of the fire; and Prompto wasted no time bringing your right ankle over his shoulder and pushing himself inside of you, hips flush against you instantly as he filled your wet heat.  

“Fucking Astrals, how do you always feel so good,” Prompto whispered as he gave a few experimental pumps of his hips.  

“Fuck, Prom—can say the same about you,” you breathed, stifling your moans by clenching your jaw shut.  

“Shame we can’t be loud,” Prompto said as he continued to thrust into you with earnest. “You know how much I like hearing you.” 

“I know,’ you managed, rolling your hips in tandem with Prompto’s. “Fuck Prom, fuck me, I love you so much...” 

“You’re so perfect,” Prompto praised again. “So wet for me, so soft, so loving...” you heard his breath hitch and while you kept your eyes shut to heighten your other senses, you knew that Prompto was getting emotional. “I love you so much, ______________.” He began to move faster, chasing his release. 

You kept up with his rhythm, reveling in the way his slender body felt on top of yours. He pressed light kisses to your face and sucked on your neck again as he continued to fuck you. “Fuck, Prompto,” you hissed. “That’s it baby, take me. Give yourself to me.” 

“Fuck!” Prompto said, a little too loud as he started to come, and that’s when you heard it—the unmistakable shuffle of four more boots outside.  

 

“Smells good, Iggy,” said Gladio, clapping the adviser on the back.  

“You gonna go jump in the river?” Noctis wrinkled his nose at the shield. “You’re all sweaty and gross. _You_ certainly don’t smell good.” 

“That just means I got a good workout. Look at you, princess—you barely broke a sweat after all that. I guess I didn’t push you hard enough.” 

“My ass,” said Noctis, moving closer to Ignis and peering into the frying pans on the charcoal grill. “Eggs?” he questioned.  

“Fried rookie on rice,” Ignis replied with a smile. “Birdbeast eggs, saxham rice, sweet peppers.” 

The prince wrinkled his nose at the last ingredient, but his stomach was growling after his training with Gladio, so he didn’t protest any further. He moved closer to the tent, but Ignis’ voice gave him pause.  

“You might want to wait a little while longer, Highness. I believe our friends are still resting.” 

“Hmph,” pouted Noctis. “Don’t understand why  _I_ have to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn while they get to sleep in...” Noctis turned his head as he registered a distinct “Fuck!” in Prompto’s signature higher-pitch whine.  

Ignis adjusted his glasses and turned back to the food, while Gladio felt his cheeks get hot, a sly smile spreading across his face as Noct’s wide-eyes met his.  

“ _Resting, my ass!”_ Noctis groaned loudly as he folded his arms. He kicked at the closed tent flaps. Gladio laughed.  

 

Prompto was pulling out as he heard Noctis shout. “Shit,” he said. “Guess we’re done.” He bent down to kiss you again as he slid out of you, throwing off the sleeping bag and sitting up on his haunches to take the condom off and tie it. He leaned over to toss the condom in the communal trash bag in the tent that was reserved for non-food items, and hastily pulled on a new pair of underwear and his pajama pants. He waited until you were dressed—you put on a soft cotton sports bra under your sleep shirt since the others were back at camp—and then he unzipped the tent, standing up and almost knocking over Noctis.  

“Hey-hey, buddy!” Prompto said cheerfully, slapping Noctis on the back. “Training go good?” 

Noctis just scowled. “I dunno Prom, you tell me. Seems like you had a little ‘training’ of your own this morning.” 

You exited the tent next, face red and hot as you crossed to the other side of the fire to sit in your camping chair. You felt Gladio’s amber eyes staring you down as you moved. You didn’t meet anyone’s gaze for several minutes.  

“Oh c’mon, Noct,” Prompto was pleading with the pouty prince. “We did it in  _our_ sleeping bags, plus I used a condom—you can’t even tell!” 

“Whatever,” mumbled Noctis, brushing his best friend aside and ducking into the tent for his bag. “I’m going to wash off in the river,” he said upon emerging. “Gladio, you come with me.” 

“But breakfast will ready in just a moment, Noct,” chided Ignis. “You’ll feel better after you eat. I can hear your stomach from here.” 

“Surprised you couldn’t hear Prompto from there,” he mumbled, but he dropped his bag of toiletries and clean underwear and sat in his chair.  

Prompto rolled his eyes as he passed Gladio and sat in his chair next to you, finding your hand and gripping it tightly.  

The shield chuckled knowingly and ducked into the tent himself to get a change of clothes and his toiletries so he could clean himself up after breakfast—and when he came out, his flushed face was contorted in seeming pain.  

You were the first to meet his gaze. You stood instantly, medical training kicking in instinctively. “Gladio, what’s wrong? Injure yourself during training? Let me help...” You started over to him, hand outstretched and already glowing.  

The shield’s nostrils flared and he backed away. “No, no sweetheart, nothin’ like that, it’s just...uh, I’ll be right back. Bathroom!” And Gladio turned on his heel and bolted away to the nearest cluster of trees, several yards away, ducking behind one of them. 

You raised an eyebrow and looked at Ignis, who was facing the campfire with the first two plates of food in hand. “Ignis...what was that about? Is Gladio all right? He looked in pain, his face was all red...if he’s hurt I can help. It’s kinda my job. Or did I do something to make him upset?” 

Ignis quietly chuckled as he handed you and Noctis the first plates. “No, my dear, nothing like that. If my suspicions are correct...” Ignis stepped into the tent for the briefest of moments and then withdrew, standing to his full six-foot height again. “Aha. As I thought,” and the adviser smiled.  

Noctis rolled his eyes and swallowed. “Don’t make me throw this up, Specs.” 

“Then plug your ears; you’re a grown man, Noct.” Ignis turned to you, unable to keep the amusement from his face. “You’re lucky your prince won’t be privy to this particular scent, but it seems that your...your smell has aroused our dear Gladio.” 

“Oh fucking hell, I’m eating over there.” Noctis got up and jumped down from the haven, walking about ten feet away, where he plopped on the grass with his plate, back turned.  

You giggled at Noct’s tantrum and shot an amused look to Prompto, who was staring intently at Ignis, wide-eyed.  

“Are you saying...” the blond started.  

“Unfortunately, the rest of us are  _hard_ pressed to find as much relief as the two of you. It seems that Gladio is a little more pent up than most. The smell of a woman would be something very familiar and potent to his nostrils.” 

“Oh shit,” you said, realization setting in. “You mean...you mean Gladio  _smelled_ my...my orgasm... and it made him hard?!” You chanced a look to the far-off trees. No sign of the giant man yet. “You mean he’s over there right now jacking off because he knows Prompto and I had sex in the tent.” You involuntarily squeezed your thighs together, willing your still-wet core to somehow magically get rid of your earlier arousal.  

Ignis followed your gaze and laughed. “I’m hardly wrong,” he said as he turned to make himself and Prompto a helping of breakfast. 

“Astrals hell,” you cursed, walking back to your chair, handing Prompto his plate as you sat again. You turned to your boyfriend. “I guess, uh. Maybe we wait a while before doing it in the tent again.”  

Prompto just blushed and nodded, quiet as he shoveled food in his mouth way too fast for his own good.  


	7. One Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of shit can happen in a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR props to @flopity-flips for helping me with these drabble ideas and helping me order them in the story. I'd die without her.

Monday: Can I Borrow A Pencil? / I Don’t Know, Can You? 

 

It’s junior year and they’re sitting beside each other, now; now that they’re best friends and now that they’ve established a very easy routine with each other and with Noctis—and Noctis still isn’t in the same class but that’s okay, it’s more than okay with ___________, because while she loves the prince and loves being his friend and his Corwnsguard, he’s not Prompto. No one could ever duplicate Prompto, not even if they tried. She cherishes this blessed seven-hour one-on-one time with her blond friend, even if it’s something as mundane as school.  

It’s a week in and ___________ is already confused on chemistry, which is odd: because isn’t she a healer, doesn’t she make potions, doesn’t she know the ratio of Alstroom to Leiden feather in Venomcast Elemancy; but for some reason this is going over her head and she groans, drops her pencil and quits taking notes for a second and rubs her eyes. She’s definitely going to have to ask Ignis for help with this one. It’s been five minutes of the new lesson and she’s already lost.  

She doesn’t hear Prompto whisper to her until the third time. They’re in the back row so Prompto can get away with goofing off and __________ can get away with pretending to be annoyed with his antics—but she never is, could never be annoyed with Prompto, not when she’s fallen so helplessly for him and he’s so painfully oblivious to it.  

“Dude, Eos to ___________!” Prompto hisses. He leans far to the side to swat her playfully on the arm.  

___________ snaps out of her wallowing and turns to stare at the messy blond hair, the wide blue eyes, the freckles, the wide grin—and her heart simultaneously starts and stops, like it always does—like Prompto both sucks the air from her lungs and gives her that shaky first breath, every time. ___________ wonders if she’s going to end up with a heart condition by the end of high school because of how much her heart pounds when Prompto’s around; and he’s  _always_ around.  

“Huh?” she asks dumbly, aware that she’s staring at him.  

“I was gonna start to take notes but I forgot a pencil,” Prompto whispers—or tries to whisper, he’s never been good at whispering.  

____________ freezes because she only has one pencil, her others are gods-know-where. She looks at the front of the class, where the teacher is writing complex equations on the board and talking about the periodic table; and back to Prompto, who’s smiling apologetically, blue eyes in a pleading, puppy stare that no human could ever resist; and without thinking, __________ snaps her _own_ pencil in half, hurriedly digs a pencil top eraser out of the zippered pouch in her binder and attaches it, and hands the new instrument to Prompto, who’s staring in awe, slack-jawed; and he takes the pencil from her in slow motion, darting his eyes from the pencil to her and back again as he watches her pull a handheld sharpener from the pouch and sharpen the jagged end that’s attached to the half with the proper eraser. ___________ shoves the sharpener back in the pouch and doesn’t make eye contact again as she continues where she left off.  

The whole scene takes less than a minute, from Prompto finally getting __________’s attention to her finishing with the broken half of her pencil, and the rest of the class either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, and the teacher is too caught up in explaining what trace elements are found in the Disc of Cauthess to pay attention to what’s happening in the back row. The young Crownsguard’s mind is reeling—she doesn’t know why she just didn’t say “Sorry Prompto, I don’t have a pencil.” She could’ve given him a  _pen;_ she has three of those, she’s just now noticing in the pouch in her binder; but he asked for a  _pencil_ and the thought of him asking someone else for a pencil makes her blood boil and she knows it’s stupid but she can’t help it, she  _panicked_ —and now Prompto probably thinks she’s an idiot; but at least he has a pencil.  

Prompto’s face is flushed and so is ___________’s but he doesn’t know why—he only looks down at the pencil in awe and smiles and hurries to catch up with what’s on the whiteboard before it’s erased. It would have never occurred to him to do something like that so suddenly, he thinks—who  _does_ that? It’s like his best friend is the ultimate problem-solver. He can see why Noctis has her in his Crownsguard. The girl’s a genius, he decides—he thinks already knew that after she helped him bring his language arts grades up last year, but the snap decision—he chuckles to himself,  _snap_ decision—of her breaking her own pencil in half so he could have part of it is so simple yet so complex that he almost has trouble wrapping his head around it. Prompto grins as he takes notes. He plans to use the pencil until it’s gone.  

 

“I’m such an idiot,” she whines as she slides into the back seat of the Ignis’ sports car.  

Ignis has collected the young prince and his medic for training, poor Prompto being left to trudge to his closing shift at the photography studio.  _No arcade tonight,_ they all three had sighed at lunch. __________ groans into her hands and rubs her eyes. She has a headache. She didn’t talk to Prompto until they’d gotten to the roof and neither of them mentioned the pencil thing and she’s glad. Noctis pats her shoulder apologetically.  

“I mean,  _who does that_? I could’ve just said, ‘Sorry Prompto, I don’t have a pencil.’ Why didn’t I just...ugh,” she groans again and throws her head back to the seat as Ignis pulls away from the school.  

The adviser chuckles because he  _knows_ and he shoots __________ a smirk and raises his eyebrow as he meets her gaze in the rear-view mirror.  

Noctis laughs. “Don’t see why you’re over analyzing,” he says. “So what? You did something kind of weird, but it worked out. You both were able to have pencils and take notes.” 

The shorter girl shoots the prince a death glare but keeps her lips shut, and the prince tries to tease her back into a cheerful attitude, but the only emotion she’s capable of right now is mortification.  

“Speaking of the notes, it was during the chemistry lesson that this happened,” ____________ sighs, finally meeting Ignis’ mirrored gaze. “Ignis, I know you’re super busy, but maybe...I’m kinda lost on some of this stuff.” 

Ignis adjusts his glasses as he merges lanes and rounds a narrow city block. “It would be my pleasure to help you.” 

 _________________

Wednesday: Peaches and Cream 

 

It’s lunch on the roof again, and __________ has taken to bringing her own lunch from home instead of what the cafeteria sells—money's tight these days and it’s cheaper to cook at home. Prompto won’t say it outright but he always asks for a bite of whatever she’s got for lunch so she unconsciously starts to make extra—two sandwiches or an extra roll of sushi or two, or more cold soba than she could possibly stomach, because Prompto eats lightning fast and is still somehow always hungry and he always gives her that big wide grin and says “That looks so good, can I try a bite?” And _________ knows that her cooking and her mom’s cooking is nowhere near Ignis-tier but Prompto praises it all the same; and her heart soars and her stomach flutters and if Prompto wants to eat  _her_ food, she’s not going to say no.  

Prompto has his usual spot on top of the rumbling AC unit and Noctis is cross-legged on the warm cement, the prince noshing happily on a burger (sans the lettuce and tomato he pulled from its layers), and Prompto’s lunch is done but he’s eating the extra helping of mashed potatoes and gravy that __________ just happened to have in her lunch that day. __________ is finished with her roasted Behemoth steak and vegetables—aside from the extra potatoes that she packed. Her dessert is fruit—today, a juicy peach, one plucked straight from the Citadel’s private grove of fruit trees. She licks her lips happily and misses Prompto staring, fork hovering centimeters in front of his open lips, as she closes her eyes and bites; a trickle of sticky nectar running down plump chin and falling on a bare knee, just below the hem of the uniform skirt.  

She misses the way Prompto painfully finishes the bite of potatoes, swallowing hurriedly and gulping as she stares off into the distance, not really looking at anything; just musing over the day and she bites again and again, slurping and humming satisfied moans which, in Prompto’s hormone-addled brain, sound downright sinful; and Noctis doesn’t miss the way she’s eating the fruit, and he definitely doesn’t miss the flush in Prompto’s pale freckled cheeks that grows redder and redder by the second as he watches his friend watch his other friend eat a peach.  

And Noctis stares for a second, because she is a  _girl_  after all, the only one in his close circles, and the only one his age that he talks to other than Lady Lunafreya, who he hasn’t seen since he was a child—stares at her plump mouth and the way the midday sun makes the nectar on her lips shine. Her eyes are closed and she’s happy, in that moment, on the roof with her friends, eyes closed, doing something as simple as eating a peach, but Noctis knows that for her, this is a lot. It’s a big thing for ___________ to have a momentary lapse in anxiety, to simply  _be_ , and he smiles, because she’s kinda pretty in this light, he thinks , even though she doesn’t think so; Noctis knows the Astrals themselves could tell her that she was beautiful and she’d fight them on it. She’d started doing her hair in a different way and she’d changed a few habits and not that she was ever bad before, but he can see her maturing, slightly; starting to grow more comfortable in who she is, and who she is when she’s around him and Prompto. He lets himself look at the rest of her, the roundness of her figure, the shape of her large calves, the curvature of her breasts, the double chin she’s always so self-conscious about; and he’s hugged her before, and he  _likes_ hugging her, but he never knew why; until it dawns on him that she is, by default, just  _huggable._ And he silently kicks himself for having told Prompto he was heavy as a child when he should have just helped the hefty blond up from the ground and  _hugged_ him instead. He silently tells Prompto he’s sorry about that, every day, because Prompto acts like last year was the first time they’d ever met and Noct humors him; and now that Noctis knows an actual fat person, he knows that others aren’t kind—they're not like him, they don’t mature and they’re not sorry about teasing people for something they most likely can’t even help.  

And he drags his eyes from ___________ and the peach—she's halfway done, by the way, and adorably oblivious to her two companions being unable to finish their lunch—to Prompto, who’s gone slack-jawed, face red from more than the noon sun that’s beating down on the roof, and for the briefest of seconds, Noctis flicks his gaze from Prompto’s face to the rest of him—and Astrals, the boy’s  _aroused_ _;_ and Noctis blushes even harder because he suddenly feels like he’s encroaching on a private moment. Prompto’s breathing heavy, and every so often he’ll dart his tongue out to catch his bottom lip in a long stroke, and Noctis watches a bead of sweat roll down his face, dropping onto the hand that’s got his pants in a death grip. He knows that Prompto feels kinda different about her but he can’t put his finger on it and he’s only talked to Noctis about it a handful of times—they're best friends, Prompto is insisting, but is it normal to get turned on by your best friend eating fruit? Noctis doesn’t know, he supposes he’ll have to ask Ignis.  

Noctis senses that their friend is about to be done, wipe her face, usher them back downstairs before they’re caught, like she always does—and so he clears his throat, not loud enough for her to hear, but Prompto hears him, he’s sitting right above Noctis, and his eyes meet his and Noctis smirks and flicks his head at Prompto; pats his own pants near the groin, and the blond looks down and shoots him a pained, frightened look, like a chocobo in headlights—and he turns around, facing the other way on the AC unit, and Noctis chuckles. He doesn’t know how Prompto will get rid of the erection but figures his buddy needs as little embarrassment as possible and as much as the prince loves to tease Prompto, he’s not mean.  

__________ finishes the peach and wipes her hands on the moist towelette she’d packed in her lunchbox—she's like the female Iggy, almost, and it simultaneously annoys and amuses Noctis; and opens her eyes to look at the prince and smile. She raises an eyebrow at Prompto’s turned form, but the prince wordlessly puts his finger to his lips and stands, grabbing the disposable dishes he’d eaten his burger on and leading the way back down to the school proper. ___________ shrugs, figures Prompto’s doing something that only Prompto would do; and for once, trusts him to get back to class on time and on his own; and she bounds behind Noctis, giggling, trying to beat him down the stairs, talking about the newest volume of a comic book.  

He’s three minutes late to class, bursting in with a flushed face and wrinkled pants and he slides into his seat silently, doesn’t make eye contact, mumbles a lame excuse when the teacher chides him and accepts his punishment of extra homework without protest. He doesn’t talk, doesn’t joke, doesn’t make puns; and ___________ begins to worry, anxiety creeping up like an intrusive strain of ivy, squeezing old brick cottages for everything they’re worth.  

The bell rings and Prompto’s shoving his books from his desk into his bag and he feels a firm grip on his clothes, and he forces himself to look up at her, and gods, her face puts a stake through his heart—she's near tears because  _of course_ she’d pick up on him avoiding her, not talking as much, of course she’d notice his weird behavior at the end of lunch; and he registers her talking to him, because when she talks his attention couldn’t be anywhere else... only Prompto’s too distracted by her plump, full lips to hear what she’s saying right now, only wonders what it would be like to press his mouth against hers; but wet stains on her soft red cheeks suddenly bring him out of his daze and he’s up, desk almost pushed over in panic, and he’s hugging her as she’s sobbing quietly against his uniform. He’s pressing his face to her hair and inhaling her scent—how can someone smell like lavender and vanilla and peaches all at the same time, he wonders; and then he’s remembering lunch and he has to invoke the willpower of the gods not to get hard again right then and there at the memory of his friend, who’s still crying in his arms, doing something so innocent as eating a peach. Gods, he’s pathetic, Prompto thinks—but then he’s holding her out at arm’s length and he’s telling her than nothing’s wrong, he’s not mad, how could he ever be upset with her; and he’s chalking up the end of lunch to a mild panic attack, which isn’t entirely wrong, and that placates her, and she’s back to being smiley and happy and Prompto’s heart clenches; and he wonders if he’s going to have heart problems by the time he graduates.  

_______________________________ 

Friday: Prompto vs. The Sidewalk 

It’s Friday and Noctis has told Ignis that, no matter what the adviser says, he’s  _going_ to the arcade with his two friends and that’s  _final_. Ignis pretends to give in but secretly he’d cleared the prince’s schedule last week so Noctis has nothing to do tonight anyway, and his only weekend chore should be studying for a science test (provided the three teenagers don’t sit out on his roof until 4 am, as they’re wont to do on a near-weekly basis). So the prince and Prompto and ___________ round the corner from the school and start walking deeper into the city towards their favorite gaming hub. Noctis gets a few gawks and not-so-sneaky cell phone pictures, but he’s used to it, so he ignores them.  

“So, I was thinking, y’all—oh shit wait, I have a banana! I’m so hungry. Hold that thought,”  __________ says, pulling a banana from her bag as they walk. She peels it and takes a bite and smiles with an “Mmmmmmmm” on her lips, question quickly forgotten in lieu of her snack.  

She’s in the middle of them; Noctis slows his walk until he’s a half-step behind her, and it’s not ideal, but he can still kind of see Prompto’s face as she eats the banana. And if Noctis thought that the peach scenario on the  _roof_ was bad, it’s tame compared to the way the blond blushes now; and the prince doesn’t miss the symbolism, because it doesn’t take a genius to know where a teenage boy’s mind is going to go when they see a member of the opposite sex eating a fucking  _banana_.  

Noctis vows to save his friend a repeat offense in his trousers. “Hey buddy,” he addresses Prompto. Noctis yawns but by the time he’s opened his eyes again, Prompto’s yelping and down on the ground, ankle bent off the curb of the sidewalk in a way that ankles aren’t supposed to turn.  

“Huh—shit, Prompto, what happened?!” Banana peel tossed over a random fence, ____________ is down on the ground beside him in minutes.  

Prompto’s hissing in pain, cheeks flushed not with his normal shyness or jittery embarrassment, but in pain, because his ankle is not supposed to be facing at a right angle, pointed left at the sidewalk he was just walking on seconds before. He’s panting, feels himself breaking out into a sweat, thinks that he could never feel anything worse than what he’s feeling right now.  

“Sssshhhh, Prom, stay with me buddy, it’s okay,” Noctis is cradling the top half of his crying friend, trying to wrap himself around Prompto and absorb his pain into himself. “We need to...” Noctis panics. “We need to call Ignis! Get him to a hospital!” 

“Noct!” __________ almost shouts, refrains just a little—he's still the prince, after all. “There’s no time for that. We need to get him home. I can treat him, he just needs to be home.” 

Noctis gulps and nods. “How do we...?” 

But __________ is already standing up and chasing down a taxi cab. Together they pull the dead weight that is currently a near-unconscious Prompto Argentum into the back seat of the car. The driver recognizes the prince and turns off the meter, and takes every shortcut that she knows until she’s out of downtown and speeding towards the outer edges of the city. The blond’s top half is in Noct’s lap, where the prince is asking him basic questions, but Prompto’s in so much pain the blond barely remembers his own birthday; while the medic has the offending ankle on her lap and she’s ripping up a spare tshirt she had in her school bag to set the ankle like it should be—almost cries herself as Prompto grimaces and shouts in pain, because she’s never wanted to hurt him, ever, she’d rather die—but it has to be set, it can’t stay flopped to the side, she hasn’t been in residency at the satellite hospital of Insomnia Medical for nothing, she’s not a combat medic for  _nothing_.  

The cab screeches to a halt in front of the house—no lights are on inside, of course they aren’t, because Prompto’s parents are rarely home—and Noctis is strong enough to hoist the blond onto his back. __________ digs Prompto’s keys from his bag and she fumbles with the door but finally gets it open, and they walk inside. Prompto’s passed out with shock, finally, but Noctis knows he’s breathing so he doesn’t worry too much—he's  _here_ and Prompto’s _home_ and for all intents and purposes, a  _nurse_ in training is here with them, so he has faith that his friend will be all right. Noctis kicks off his shoes somewhat awkwardly with the weight on his back; __________ follows suit, removing Prompto’s shoes before directing Noctis upstairs to Prompto’s room.  

The prince lays his friend down on the bed and __________ gets to work.  

“Cool rag from the bathroom on his head,” she directs the prince, who’s desperate to do something. He nods and follows orders. ___________ swallows her feelings and embarrassment and takes off Prompto’s blazer and tie, leaving him just in his white button-up shirt; and says a prayer to whichever of the Six are listening that she doesn’t do anything stupid as she unbuckles Prompto’s belt and shrugs his pants off and tries not to gaze at his ordinary black boxer briefs in the process. _The ankle_ , right, she’s here for Prompto’s ankle. Socks are gone, bare feet now. And so much for her t-shirt, but it was a thrift-store find anyway, and her best friend needs her. She unwraps the makeshift splint and the ankle lolls to the side again, earning a low groan from the blond. She drags his desk chair over and sits beside the bed. 

“Noctis!” She shouts. She puts her hands around the thin juncture between leg and foot and she  _sees_ the break in her mind’s eye, feels the loose shard of bone floating around, knowing that if she doesn’t do this right, Prompto will potentially have a life-altering disability. She gulps, second-guessing her abilities and her snap decision to bring him home.  

The prince comes back, ice-cold rag in tow, along with bottles of water from the fridge, one for each of them. It’s been a dizzying past forty-five minutes. “Here, sorry—figured he’d want water when he woke up, and you could use some now.” He sets all three bottles on the bedside table and places the rag on his friend’s head.  

“Thanks.” __________ turns back to Prompto’s ankle and frowns. “It’s broken in multiple places. It’s not a clean break—much harder to heal. I didn’t realize...”  

“How can you tell?” Noctis cocks his head.  

“I can...I dunno.” She motions with her head to her hands wrapped around the injury. "It’s starting to swell. “I can...like I can  _see_ it.” 

“Like an x-ray?” the prince asks.  

“Yeah.”  

"Can you do it? Or do we really need to get him to the hospital?” 

“I think...I mean I’m going to try...it’s just...if I get this wrong...if it doesn’t heal right...he’ll have problems for the rest of his life.” 

“You’re overthinking it,” says Noctis, putting a hand on her back. "I have faith in you. He’s fine. Just take your time.” 

___________ breaths and closes her eyes and finds that place deep within herself; and suddenly she’s in front of the glowing ball of light that is either all of the Astrals or one of them or some of them—she doesn’t know, doesn’t care right now. “Please,” she tells the light. “This is the best friend to your Chosen King. You in your infinite knowledge know his destiny. Please allow me to make him as he was before. No mistakes. Guide my hands, Astrals. Please.”  

And after what feels like years, a response in the garbled language— _We have seen this human’s heart and deemed him worthy of restoration._  

And suddenly she’s back, opening her eyes; Noctis is holding Prompto’s hand, bent low over him almost like a lover, stroking his hair, whispering encouragement. The young medic draws up the magic from deep within her and suddenly she’s seeing inside Prompto’s flesh, she’s magically guiding all the sharp shards of bone back to their original home—once the puzzle has been put back together, she squeezes tighter, hands glowing blue, and she shudders at the crackle of magic in the air; ___________ squeezes her chubby hands around the thin ankle and  _presses_ , fusing the ankle back together how it should be. She’s sweating with effort but slowly feels the heal in the ankle and she exhales long and low.  

“Potion?” she asks, suddenly tired.  

Noctis moves away from the head of the bed, pulls a vial from his Armiger, and lifts Prompto’s head; he pours the potion down his best friend’s throat—and the bruises and swelling are gone within seconds, and the last traces of the break are healed, bones all slotted together again; and Prompto opens his eyes and jolts awake, blinks in the soft light of his bedroom, sweaty and flushed, confused as a wet rag falls from his pale forehead.  

“What....what happened?” He looks down, notices his state of undress, desperately looks to Noctis and __________. “What happened?!” 

“Prompto, hey! Calm...calm down dude. You’re fine now, everything’s fine.” __________ reassures him, slowly relieving the pressure of her hands on his ankle. 

Prompto almost whines at the loss of contact but he bites his lip.  

“You fell off the curb, we were going to the arcade, remember? You broke your ankle. You passed out from pain and shock. You’re home, we brought you home. I healed you.” ___________ suddenly looks away, embarrassed. “Sorry, I had—I had to have full access to your ankle. Pants in the way,” she mumbles.

Prompto nods breathlessly and looks to Noctis, who’s standing by his side, opening a bottle of water. “Thirsty bro? It’s been a hell of an afternoon.” 

The blond nods and takes the water and chugs three-fourths of it within seconds. “I guess we’re not going to the arcade after all,” he croaks.  

Noctis laughs. “You just wanna play video games here?” He looks to his friends. “Will your parents be mad, Prom?” 

The blond shrugs. “You’re the prince and a Crownsguard, so probably not, but they won’t even be home for the next two days. Business trip outside the Wall,” Prompto explains. “But, I don’t have the library you do, Noct. Won’t be as much fun.” 

“Ah c’mon. I know you have at least Mortal Kombat—I saw your post on the forums about the newest patch.” 

Prompto laughs. “Listen, they  _did_ —they totally nerfed Raiden, I’m so pissed! His ultimate move set is so lame now.” He looks to ___________. “You okay to hang for a few hours?” He grins.  

_____________’s heart flip-flops as usual. “Yeah-yeah, already told my parents I’d be back late anyway. Don’t worry, I’ll play King’s Knight or something. Or read.” 

“Nerd,” Prompto teases. “And uh, hey. Thanks...thanks guys,” he says sheepishly, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“Don’t look at me, I’m just the water boy,” laughs Noctis. “Without  _her_ you’d be on crutches for two months, in a cast, or in a wheelchair.” 

“Oh man, you totally robbed me of the chance to have  _sympathy_ at school!” Prompto mock whines, clutches his heart in fake agony. “Just think, I could’ve gotten a pity date!” 

____________ rolls her eyes and laughs it off but screams internally.  

Noctis wonders how Prompto can joke about dating other girls when he’s gotten hard  _twice_ in the past two days over his “best friend” eating goddamned  _fruit;_ but he shrugs, figures that the synapses in Prompto’s brain just haven’t connected two and two together yet, and pads downstairs to the living room where the TV and game console are waiting.  

“You’re still going to be pretty sore and tender there, Prom,” ___________ explains as she gets up from the chair. “Do you want me to stay with you until tomorrow? Just to make sure you’re okay.” 

Prompto’s eyes light up like a winter solstice tree. “I would love that.”  

_______________________________ 

Saturday: Lessons in Anatomy 

If Prompto Argentum ever experienced the miracle of a girlfriend, he’d wanted to make sure she’d have everything she needed. The spare hallway bathroom was loaded with a dozen types of lotions, shampoos, body sprays, deodorants—they all smelled so  _good_ , how did girls ever choose just one toiletry item? And pads and tampons—Prompto at first thought they worked like condoms, y’know— _sizes—_ but a very patient Ignis had explained to him that no, they went by  _absorbency_  levels, so Prompto had gotten boxes of tampons and pads, one for every absorbency, from light to super to overnight. He was proud of himself. Now he’d be ready for a girlfriend to stay the night. If such a divine miracle ever occurred.  

Which, it hadn’t, not yet—so __________ was somewhat flabbergasted when late Saturday she’d entered the guest bathroom in the hallway and found, under the sink, the bags and bags of various female-coded personal items. She’d been looking for towels. “Uh....Prompto?” she called. She was in a tank top and shorts—the only other thing in her school bag, an outfit she was usually in when they inevitably ended up on Noct’s apartment roof at 2 am in the morning most Fridays—so she’d slept in that, and her school uniform, including bra and panties, was spinning away in Prompto’s washing machine downstairs.  

“Yeah buddy?” he called from his room. He was walking on it again, somewhat slowly—it was still very sore even though it was fully healed. She and Noctis had helped him down the stairs and back up again; and when Noct had left, she had been like a bedside nurse, helping him with every little thing, offering him her shoulder so he wouldn’t have to put as much weight on it while walking. ___________ had scrambled eggs—one of the few things in the fridge—and brought him breakfast in bed. She’d even brewed coffee. Prompto was as happy as a pig in shit, and in his brain, it was because she was his friend and he was in need and she was helping him—surely Noct would’ve done the same had she not been in the picture—and there was nothing more to it, he reasoned. He really was feeling better this morning, he rotated his ankle to be sure, and now he  _really_ had to pee—so he got out of bed and gingerly stood up and walked slowly to the hallway bathroom, barely remembering that he was just in his boxer-briefs and there was a whole ass  _girl_ in his house.  

“I was wondering where the towels were!” ___________ was shouting as she began to lift up her tank top.  

The door was only closed halfway, not hiding anything of substance; so when ___________ was bringing the tank top up over her arms, bearing her ample chest and plush stomach, Prompto was pushing the door open, saying, “Don’t shout, I’m right here, the towels are in this closet next to the thermostat, also can I pee real quick...” 

The blond stopped and his brain instantly shut down as the tank top came off and over her head and dropped to the floor; _____________ opened her eyes and noticed Prompto’s reflection in the mirror and  _screamed_ , which made Prompto scream; and somewhere in her mortified brain, being fat in that moment was more embarrassing than being half naked, so her hands instinctively flew to her torso instead of her breasts, allowing Prompto more than a few seconds seeing his first set of boobs in the flesh—and then reality set in and she slammed the door in his face and covered her chest, even though she’d shut the door.  

“Fucking Astrals, Prompto!  _Knock,_ _you_ _dumbass!_ ” She was leaned over the sink, face as red as a Leiden tomato, not knowing whether to laugh or cry or scream some more.  

“Shit-shit! I’m so sorry! I’m  _so_ sorry!” Prompto was screaming on the other side of the door. “I didn’t...I didn’t mean to...!” 

“I know you didn’t  _mean_ to, doesn’t change the fact that you  _did_!” 

“I’m sorry! Please don’t stop being my friend! Here, I’ll...” Prompto knocked on the bathroom door. “Please come out.” 

“I want to  _shower,_  Prompto.” 

“I know, I know, this’ll only take a minute, okay?” The blond shifted nervously and hooked his thumbs inside the waistband of his boxer-briefs. He heard his friend groan but then there was the shuffle of fabric and the door opened, a pouty red face peeking out through the slim crack in the door.  

“What,” she huffed.

“Let me make it even.” 

“Wha...what?” 

“I saw some part of you that I shouldn’t have—it’s only fair I do it to you.” Prompto gulped and closed his eyes and lowered his underwear.  

___________’s eyes went wide and she couldn’t help but open the door more as she took in Prompto’s naked form for the first time.  _Astrals,_ she was never going to get this sight out of her head—his lean muscle; the faint, silvery stretch marks— _stretch marks,_ _Prompto Argentum_ _has stretch marks_ —that framed his hips, the happy trail of wispy blond hair that ran from his bellybutton down to the base of his... _shit,_ there was his cock, in all of its thick glory, hanging deliciously between his legs, his reddish balls hanging low behind it—and then Prompto snapped to reality and pulled his underwear up and looked her in the eye and  _bolted_ down the hall to his parents’ bedroom, despite his recent traumatic injury. 

 

Later that night they’re all back at Noct’s like normal, only mildly studying for the science test on Monday; but currently, Prompto and Noctis are in an online match in a tactical warfare game against some noobs, apparently—but ____________ doesn’t really care as she grabs another slice of pizza from the box on the coffee table. She flips between the online study guide on her phone and her favorite fanfiction website, tuning out the boys and their taunts and jeers to the other team. When they inevitably die and Noctis tosses his headset to the side, she looks up from her phone and smiles apologetically.  

“I’m sorry you lost.” 

The prince shrugs. “It’s all good.” He takes a swig of cola. “So you stayed at Prom’s, everything go all right? Feeling better, buddy?” He turns to the blond.  

The way that Prompto’s and ____________’s faces instantly flush the deepest shade of red imaginable only fuel Noct’s imagination as Prompto stutters out “It was fine, I’m fine” at the same time _____________ mumbles “Nothing weird happened, I just made sure he could get around okay, he needs to just keep pressure off of it until Monday.” 

“....Okay,” Noctis says, glancing at Prompto, who’s got this weird, unreadable expression on his face. The blond mouths “Tell you later” and the prince nods.  

___________ has already gone back to her phone and her fanfiction.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what that was, don't ask y'all. I've been writing all day and I'm TIRED. Lol


	8. Giving and Receiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's Day and White Day with you and the bros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the actual FUCK can someone stop me from writing 13,000-word heartbreaking mutual pining disaster chapters, I'm going to give myself an actual goddamn heart attack.
> 
> Props to @flopity-flips for talking with me through this process, as usual. She's the real MVP. (Credits to her for the dinner idea at the end!)

Part One: Valentine’s Day 

It’s lunch on the roof, even though it’s cold and February and there’s frost on the cement and on the exposed air conditioner units and transformers—it's lunch on the roof like always and Prompto says, “Oh man, Valentine’s Day is next week.” 

Noctis groans. “It’s gonna be the same as last year,” he whines. “My desk and locker are gonna be overflowing with shit I won’t even read or eat.” The prince angrily shoves fries into his mouth.  

You roll your eyes. “Wow. Affection. What the fuck is that even like,” you reply drily with a deadpan expression. Shivering, you scoot closer to Prompto—you're all in a circle near the door to the roof because it’s so cold, and you wonder why Noctis drags the two of you up here when there’s snow clouds in the sky, but the prince likes his solitude and you’re the only company he can stand, you and Prompto—so you wiggle down into your thick coat and lean on Prompto as you finish drinking your apple juice. Noctis, for being royalty, doesn’t ask for a lot—hates the pomp and circumstance of it all, so you let him have this: lunch in the cold with friends. If it makes him happy, you’ll do it.  

Prompto snorts. “Yeah Noct, way to rub it in to the guy who got ONE box of chocolates and a card last year.” 

You elbow the blond in the ribs. “Yeah, from ME, you ungrateful jerk,” but you laugh.  

“And it was the best candy I’ve ever eaten,” replies Prompto in all seriousness, and it’s a good thing your head is down because he misses your blush, then.  

Noct sees it and smirks. “Anyway, I’m tasking you guys with helping me eat all the candy again this year.” 

You stiffen a little—you've only just started to eat more junk food around Noctis and Prompto. It's a thing,  _food_ , you’d explained one day, even though it’s a lose-lose situation— “If I eat a salad, people are going to say, ‘Don’t kid yourself, there’s no way you’re going to lose weight by eating one salad,’ and if I eat a greasy pile of fried whatever, they’re going to say ‘See, this is why you’re fat, because you eat like this,’” you’d explained to your slender friends, and Prompto had frowned and hugged you, because he understood; and Noctis had simply sighed. The boys were very careful and attuned to your anxiety, usually; you give Noctis a look and his face softens.  

“I mean, only if you want, ___________,” the prince says apologetically.  

“Hmmmm, just save all the dark chocolate for me,” you say with a wink, and the prince smiles. “But you save my card and candy for last, right?” 

“You know I do,” replies Noctis, softly.  

Last year, you’d caught the prince after training at the Citadel, and had shakily handed him a modest box of chocolates and a card, too embarrassed to give it to him at school; “from one friend to another,” you’d written on the front of the card that you’d made yourself, the inside bearing a cartoonish drawing of a sad-faced Noctis and you in a white cap with a cross on it, next to a corny poem that read  

 _Roses are red/_ _Sylleblossoms_ _are blue/Don’t worry if you’re hurt/_ _Cause_ _I’ll be there to heal you! Happy Valentine’s Day, Noctis! I’m so happy we’re friends, and I’m so glad I’m in your_ _Crownsguard_ _. Love, ____________  

Noctis had actually teared up and the card was taped on the wall of his bedroom in his apartment. You’d been really worried about breaking some sort of protocol or of Noctis misreading your intentions—but he’d assured you that he knew you weren’t actually trying to  _come on_ to him (a pipe dream, honestly, so why would you even try). You’d given one to Prompto, too—a generic “best friend” card you’d found at the hundred yen store, but you’d written him a poem that said  

 _Chocobos_ _are yellow/Roses are red/You’re my best friend/And I’ll play video games with you till I’m dead! Happy Valentine’s Day, Prompto! I’m so glad we’re friends!_ _Love, _____________  

Which, okay, not your finest lyrics to your crush—but Prompto had also cried, not only because he was so happy to have gotten  _something_ , compared to Noct’s overflowing pile of letters and heart-shaped boxes; but because you thought so highly of him and considered him a best friend.  

Your thoughts drifted back to the present; you slowly cracked an eye and Noctis was shoving the last of his lunch in his mouth—you marveled at how he still managed to eat so daintily and formally, even when he wasn’t trying, even when he was trying to be normal.  

“You done yet, Noct? I’m freezing,” you complain.  

“Man you’re whiny today,” Noctis teases and sticks out his tongue.  

“Okay, first of all,  _rude_ ,” you laugh. “Second of all, how are you guys able to stand this? It looks like it’s gonna snow any minute.” 

Prompto drinks the last of his can of lime-green soda and sets it down before bringing an around your shoulder, bringing you closer to himself. You instinctively snuggle closer to him and sigh, head resting not quite on his shoulder—it's somewhere in the vicinity of the crook of his neck and below his chin. You feel him lean his head on top of yours. Your face gets hot despite the cold weather and you look across to the prince who looks positively devilish. He winks at you.  

“Cute,” he mumbles to himself as you roll your eyes. “But yeah. I’m done. We can head inside.” As if on cue, the warning bell rings.  

“But I just got comfortable,” mutters Prompto as he moves slightly, face half-buried in your hair; and you can feel every breath he takes, every brush of his pointed nose against your scalp; you want to freeze time as you feel the softness of his lips that hover just above your ear, touching so faintly that you have to concentrate to even feel that he’s touching you at all; and you wonder if you’re going to have scorch marks from being exposed to the surface of the sun; and it surprises you that you’re not on fire.  

Noctis shrugs and gets up, gathers his trash, unzips his coat just a little. “Stay up here and get hypothermia, then,” he teases.  

You curse the gods for giving you this too-quick moment, a moment where the normally-hyperactive blond is cold and sleepy, tucked against you as much as you’re molded to his side; at twelve-thirty on a school day in the middle of February, as you watch the prince of Lucis retreat down from the roof, door creaking behind him as it swings shut. “C’mon Prom, we can’t be late.”  

“Mmmmmmmph,” comes his initial reply; and then, “You’re so comfortable, __________.”  

Time really does stop for you then as you feel the smile of his lips and the movement of his teeth against the side of your face as he talks. “Uh,” you say, brain-short-circuiting for the briefest of moments. “Thanks?” 

“Don’t wanna move,” Prompto says again, breath hot against you.  

“We have to,” you whisper. “Don’t...don’t wanna get caught skipping...plus it’s super cold...” 

“Not cold anymore,” whispers Prompto. “Not with you.” His face is nuzzled into your neck, now, as he brings his other arm and holds you against his chest.  

The bell rings. You’re late and you’re trying to find it in your heart to care but you really can’t, not when Prompto is holding onto you like you’re the only heat source left in the world; not when you’re utterly alone with him and he’s being so fucking  _intimate_ that it’s breaking your heart. You know he sees you as a best friend and that this sort of intimacy should be welcome and normal and it  _is_ , but you’re trying to hold back tears as you pray the silent prayer you’ve been praying since you met Prompto Argentum—that he’ll one day start to think of you as  something _more_.  

Prompto’s arms are crossed above your chest, and you drop your head and let your lips rest against his cold, slender hands. You don’t move. Maybe he won’t notice that you’re virtually kissing him.  

“Are we late,” Prompto mutters, somewhere between consciousness and dreams.  

“Yeah Prom, we’re late.” 

“Don’t be mad.” 

“I’m not mad.” 

Prompto moves finally, releasing you and standing and then extending a hand to lift you from the ground. His face is pale with cold but his cheeks are still that slight pink, freckles bold and dancing as he exhales and watches his breath float away on the wind. “Sorry,” he averts his eyes and opens the door.  

“Sorry for what?” you ask as you slide into the stairwell, turning back to look at him and you don’t understand how someone could be so painfully gorgeous.  

“Making us late. For...”  _For holding you_ , he almost says, but he doesn’t, and he looks at you with heavy-lidded eyes.  

You wave your hand at him and smile. “I’ll say we were at the nurse.” 

And you do, and the teacher believes you because you’re The Good Kid; and no one’s punished; and you go home thinking about lunchtime for the rest of the evening.  

 

Over the weekend you hole up in your room and begin to craft the Valentine’s Day cards to give to Prompto and Noctis. The prince’s is made from black card stock, and with a gold paint pen, you painstakingly replicate the Lucian royal crest on the front, with other gold squiggles and laurel designs around it. On the inside is your heartfelt note that reads 

 _Noctis Lucis Caelum_  

 _Fishing king, can catch all_ _of_ _‘em;_  

 _Hates veggies but loves roasting,_  

 _Can warp-strike across town, but he’s not boasting;_  

 _S_ _leepy prince_ _, always napping--_  

 _Here’s hoping this Valentine’s Day doesn’t catch you slacking!_  

 _Happy Valentine’s Day, Noct! I’m so glad we’re friends._  

 _Love, ____________  

 

And you doodle little cartoony characters of yourself and Noct in the gold ink as well, and set it on top of the black box full of dark chocolates, which is emblazoned with a large sea bass and the words “You’re a real catch!,” knowing the nautical pun would make Noctis laugh. You sift through your stack of card stock and pull out a sheet of yellow argyle and cut it down to normal size and fold it in half, the beginnings of Prompto’s card. You sigh, because oh—oh the poems you could write to Prompto, about Prompto, if your inhibitions were lowered and if you were different and you looked like someone he’d actually be interested in romantically. You could write about how his eyes were like the depths of the ocean—you'd never been to the ocean, but you’d seen pictures and commercials and based on your limited knowledge, his eyes were the closest thing to the sea, and probably as deep. You could write ballads about his freckles, about how they rivaled the universe in its constellations, about how you could kiss each one of them individually every day for the next fifty years and probably not get them all.  

You could write novels on how Prompto’s muscles moved under his shirt and about how casually sexy he looked when he pushed his blazer and button-up school shirt to his elbows, letting his forearms show; and about how he looked naked, because  _goddamn_ , even though it was an accident the first week of school, the image of him standing in his hallway with his underwear down, reciprocating the awkward nude embarrassment, would be forever burned into your brain. Gods, it looked like he’d been delicately sculpted by the Astrals themselves, with the lean curvature of his muscle, the whorls of freckles in precise patterns on his shoulders, chest, stomach—the  _v_ of his hips and his sharp hipbones and  _fuck_ , his dick—sure, you’d started to sneak onto porn blogs on secret mode on MoogleNet, but nothing could have prepared you for seeing one in real life, and certainly not so suddenly, and  _certainly_ not the dick belonging to  _Prompto_. You shudder at the memory, cheeks flushing hot as you remember that Prompto had seen every inch of your well-endowed torso. It hadn’t turned him off to you, however; it seemed that the spunky blond had even forgotten that the incident occurred. Either Prompto had grade-A memory-repressing skills, or it truly hadn’t bothered him; in retrospect, you’d noticed that he’d only screamed when you did.  _He is a man, after all,_ you muse. Of course he wouldn’t have complained about seeing boobs, only; only they’d been  _your boobs_ and the thought of someone genuinely wanting to see you naked was a distant pipe dream and so far outside your imagination that you could barely fathom such a thought as someone wanting _you_ like _that_.  

You sigh and shove the yellow argyle paper to the side of your desk. Now you were thinking about nudity and Prompto and you felt a familiar twinge beneath your legs and knew you weren’t going to be able to focus unless you gave yourself some attention first. You push yourself up from your desk and cross your room quickly to lock the door, then strip to your bra and underwear and slip under the covers, grabbing your phone to bring up your bookmarked image and blog sites for inspiration.  

One of the bookmarked sites, is, of course, Prompto’s photography blog. You follow each other, but Prompto doesn’t know it’s you on the other end—you never post pictures of yourself, and you’re nowhere near his follower count; you mostly just reblog memes or video game or anime stuff, cute animals or interesting facts or pictures of your favorite bands or celebrities, general fandom stuff that you know Prompto likes—that's how he followed you, you’d asked him to be a mutual after he’d liked a King’s Knight headcanon of yours; and Prompto has a side blog like that too, but his main blog is photography, and holy cow, his follower count is almost up to half a million. It’s mostly nature shots or slice-of-life pictures, but he has a separate tag for selfies or at-home full body shots he monitors his fitness progress with...and it’s  _these_ photos you get off to. His body progress shots are a gods-send, the next best thing to full nudes—which, the memory of him fully naked has  _definitely_ helped you fuel your orgasms this year—because in them, his underwear is pulled low and the bulge between his legs is prominent and you know that he’s doing this, putting himself online like this to boost his confidence, and based on the likes and reblogs, others are definitely interested in looking at what Prompto has to offer. It pangs you with a little jealousy, but Prompto has never shown interest in any girls despite talking about them nearly 24/7; has never asked anyone out, not that he’s disclosed to you and Noctis, anyway; and just responds very politely to the online attention and the anonymous asks (from mostly gay guys, it’s easy to figure out) begging Prompto to do all sorts of things to them. 

You already feel yourself heating up and blushing as you shamelessly open the social media app, click on his tagged  _#selfie_  and  _#_ _myface_ and  _#_ _bodyprogress_ shots, and your hand snakes down your underwear and you let out a breathless, silent whimper as your fingers dip into your folds and begin to rub.  

Three minutes in already has you wet, your clit engorged and begging for more, when your screen blacks out on the blog site and a goofy close-up of Prompto’s face illuminates your smartphone screen, phone vibrating with an incoming call from the boy himself. Your mind blanks for a minute, and by the time you’ve made the decision to actually answer, the call ends and the screen blips back to one of Prompto’s older shots of himself in the mirror, before he figured out decent lighting and angles—but it does nothing to diminish the sacred vision of his body. Not ten seconds later, the blog goes black again and Prom’s face is back on the  _incoming call_ screen and you take a deep inhale and hit the round green button, other hand still buried in your wet core, teasing.  

You clear your throat and speak low, but keep your breathing even as you continue your ministrations inside of yourself. You’ve gotten pretty good at hiding these private moments with five other people in the house.  

“Hey Prom,” you breathe.  

“Yo dude, what’s up?” Prompto says, rather breathless.  

You pause. His breathing sounds heavy, voice slightly an octave higher than normal, which usually only happens when he’s exercising. Is he calling you while he’s out running? Typical of him for a Saturday afternoon if he’s not working, or with either you or Noctis, but...is it smart of him to waste extra energy by talking on the phone? 

“I’m okay man, just lounging around. Chillin’. Trying to get Valentine’s Day stuff together, y’know.” 

Prompto laughs, and you feel yourself get more wet. You find that sweet spot and begin to move with purpose, actively chasing your release to the sound of Prompto’s voice on the phone.  

“That’s-that’s cool dude, you made Noct his card yet?” And Prompto makes a noise—a kind of breathy moan at the end of that sentence, and you squeeze your thighs together. Whatever he’s doing is definitely  _not_ the same thing you’re doing, he’s probably at one of the parks, running; or walking up one of those hills that gets everyone out of breath no matter how physically fit they are. 

“Yeah, I just finished his,” you reply with a slight exhale. You feel yourself getting closer. “What are you up to dude, you sound super out of breath? You running at the park, or...?” 

“Heh...no, just uh...sorry I’ve got you on speaker...just workin’ out at home, kinda feeling anxious today, not in a mood to be out.” Prompto’s breath stutters again, and another half-groan comes out. “Sorry,” he apologizes again. “Doing some stretches, I’ve been super sore lately. Asked Ignis for some yoga tips.” 

And Astrals if  _that_ doesn’t launch your mind into orbit, nothing will. Prompto doing yoga. You imagine him in skin-tight leggings doing poses like downward-facing dog, or putting his leg over his head...your hand speeds up, and  _gods_ , you’re so wet, and you’re hearing his voice, which is out of breath and high-pitched and strained from exercise, but your horny goblin brain imagines it to be in another scenario entirely, one where you’re both without clothes and Prompto is worshipping your body and professing his undying love for you— 

“____________, you there?” Prompto asks, and groans slightly again.  

And that does it—fuck, you feel your body convulsing as you open your mouth in a silent plea of his name and tilt the phone away from your ear and ride out your orgasm on your hand for as many seconds as you can spare before bringing it back close.  

“Sorry man, mom knocked on the door, was talking to her,” you say quietly, and clear your throat, hoping you’re not coming out to sound as breathless as he is. “It’s cool Ignis gave you some tips. I’m sorry you’re feeling sore.” 

“Ah it’s cool,” Prompto mumbles slightly. “Was...was wondering if you’d wanna grab dinner later, or do you have training at the Citadel...?” 

You give yourself a last few gentle rubs and finally bring your other hand out from the depths and sit up. “Nah I don’t have training until tomorrow, it’s early so I can’t be out late. But yeah, I can meet you downtown if you want!” 

“Oh-okay, ________ sounds cool. I’ll text you in a few hours, yeah?” 

“Yeah Prom, sounds great. See you later!” 

“See ya,” Prompto says, breathless again. 

You hang up the phone and flop back on the bed, mind reeling with what you just did. Prompto seemed to be none the wiser, however. You dress and open the door, padding down to the bathroom to wash your hands, ducking into the living room to let your parents know you’d be out later. You go back to your room and finish Prompto’s Valentine’s Day card, which has a big fat chocobo on the front in thick black marker, the inside bearing cartoon caricatures of you and Prompto, with an inscribed poem: 

 _A ride on a_ _chocobo_ _sounds really grand;_  

 _And_ _so_ _does a stroll downtown, hot chocolate in hand;_  

 _A day at the arcade can’t be beat,_  

 _If we end the day with something good to eat!_  

 _Happy Valentine’s Day,_ _Prompto_ _! I love being your friend and I love all the things we do together. Thank you for being you._  

 _Love, ____________  

 

You sigh as you tape the card to Prompto’s small box of chocolates—shaped like a chocobo, of course, with the words “We’re birds of a feather!” inscribed on the front of the box.  _Thank you for being you_. As if you could ever really mean those words in a platonic way after just having masturbated to the sound of his voice in real time.  

 

Ignis is over at Noct’s place, cooking and cleaning and giving him some council reports to read over, when Ignis gets a text message. He’s making spaghetti, having pureed enough zucchini and peppers and tomatoes to feed an army into the thick, chunky sauce; he’s stirring in the fresh-baked meatballs and once he sets the glass baking dish on the back burner and turns off the oven, he pulls his phone from his pocket. He smiles. He honestly doesn’t mind messages from ______________; usually they’re Crownsguard-related, or about some old Lucian lore or the meaning of a first-century ballad; but every now and then she’ll ask for advice on what to do about her little Prompto problem. Well. Ignis could hardly call the problem little, as he observed with quiet interest her interactions around him. Her self-image had ticked up a notch—not much, maybe a millimeter, but it was something—from what it was last year, but she still needed frequent reassurance that she was wanted, needed, and strong enough.  

Ignis glances at the text message and in spite of his normal ability to save face, feels himself flushing ever so slightly at its contents. Poor girl. Seventeen, in the inescapable binds of puberty, and with a festering crush that wasn’t going away anytime soon. Ignis stares at the message, unsure of how to reply.  

 _From _________: Ignis I’m such a fucking idiot. Okay sorry for cursing and maybe TMI but you_ _gotta_ _help me snap out of this man. I was..._ _y’know_ _...touching myself or whatever and then_ _Prompto_ _called and I KEPT touching myself to the sound of his voice and I came while he was on the phone, I don’t think he suspected anything, oh gods why am I even telling you this. You’re the only person I trust man, don’t tell Noctis I’ll never hear the end of it. Is there a reverse-love spell that you know of, can I have it please fucking_ _Astrals_ _I’m begging_ _you._ _I’m so sorry._  

As Noctis blindly picks at the salad that Ignis has put in front of him as an appetizer and half-focuses on a new trade agreement between Lucis and Accordo (how generous of Niflheim, to allow trading), his phone buzzes and he grabs it immediately, praying to the Six that it’s Prompto with a distraction. Of course it is, and...what a distraction. Noctis stares at the text, not sure whether to be amused or cringe or to say Fuck it and pass a law criminalizing secret crushes because he’s not sure how many more years of this he can take.   

 _From_ _Prompto_ _:_ _Noct_ _buddy you_ _gotta_ _help me. I don’t know what’s going on man, or why I even did it, I’m such a fuckin loser. Me in my infinite wisdom, I’m_ _jackin_ _’ off, right, like guys do, it’s normal right?_ _Anyway_ _I start thinking of __________ and man I can literally feel more blood rush from my head to my dick as I think of her and I don’t know why or what came over me but I CALL HER MAN. I FUCKIN CALL HER WHILE I’M RUBBIN ONE OUT. And she doesn’t answer the first time but when have I ever given up on a dumb idea, so I call her again and she answers, and she notices I’m all breathless and shit and I tell her I’m doing YOGA. YOGA,_ _Noct_ _, do I look like my name is Ignis Scientia? I CALLED her to jack off while hearing her voice and then I said we should go get dinner so that’s happening later. Anyway. Why am I like this man, do you think she knew? She acted normal, I mean she was_ _kinda_ _quiet so maybe her little bro was_ _sleepin_ _or something so she couldn’t talk_ _loud_ _but she didn’t act weird or like she knew what I was doing, she bought the yoga excuse. Why am I jacking off to the sound of her voice man, this is crazy, she’s my friend, what’s happening._  

Noctis sighs and leaves Prompto on read. He puts his head in his hands and groans.  

 

Thursday comes without incident, and as is expected, Noctis is absolutely  _bombarded_ with gifts within ten seconds of stepping foot into the school. Giant stuffed moogle plushies and chocobos (which he gives to Prompto to hold; gods, the boy’s never been so happy in his entire life), boxes of chocolates stacked almost as high as he is, elaborate gift boxes full of expensive tech and jewelry (do these girls really think the Crown Prince of Lucis can be bought with a diamond-encrusted watch?), store-bought cards and handmade cards and who even knows what else—Noctis just remembers to bow and be polite and accept each gift with a smile. You open up the spreadsheet app on your phone and Prompto helps you take names and list who gives what to Noctis so Ignis can help him with the taxing feat of handing out thank-you cards on White Day next month. Your phone goes off about every five minutes throughout the day until lunch—because Noctis is in class 2-A and you and Prom are in Class 2-B, Noctis has to text you every time the teacher’s interrupted with a new delivery from the family of some noble in his school, a girl or guy too shy to approach Noct themselves so they send the butler to deliver the Valentine’s Day gift. Noctis snorts in his chair as a huge box of candy from both Ignis and Gladio arrive at his desk—his retainers always send him something to make him smile in the middle of what they knew to be a taxing day on the prince. Gladio has included his usual gag gift that’s totally not school appropriate—Noctis rolls his eyes at the vibrating dildo box that he half-pulls from the shiny red bag, texting you in graphic detail the name and contents of the gift so you can add it to the registry you’re keeping; you reply with a blushing emoji and a  _Wow_. Lunch can’t come soon enough for him.  

It’s lunch on the roof and you have your purse with you so you can keep the boys’ gifts together. You wait until you’re all about halfway through eating to bring out the gifts; you're in a close circle again, because it’s cold like it was last week when Prompto nearly fell asleep on your head and you all need the body heat. You motion to Noctis first, as a matter of habit and respect; even though he doesn’t expect it from you, you do it anyway. He opens the card first, marveling at the hand-drawn royal crest on the front, framed by random gold filigree, and he blushes and chuckles at your cheesy poem. You hand him the box of dark chocolates next, and he guffaws at the fishing pun, and he unwraps the small black box last—a new fishing lure, one you’d saved up months to be able to buy for him because it was supposed to be so good so of course it was more yen than you had on you at any given time—and even though you knew that Noctis could probably buy out the world supply of fishing lures and still have money left over for the next eon, you figured that he’d appreciate something so personal. And he did.  

“You really didn’t have to,” Noctis says as he smiles sheepishly at the modest gifts and card.  

“Well I know, but y’know, we’re best friends, Noct. Or, at least, you are to me. I know I’m maybe not that to you, but...” 

“Oh shut it,” Noctis cuts you off, only half-annoyed. “You do this all the fuckin’ time. You know you and Prom mean the world to me. You’re all I’ve got, other than Ignis and Gladio. But you’re more, y’know. I don’t hang out on my apartment roof at four in the morning with  _them_.” He looks at the fishing lure and the hand-drawn card and the box of chocolates with the fishy pick-up line on it. “Those other girls could give me millions of yen worth of stuff but it’ll never have as much value as this. I know how much this lure costs and I know it probably took you a while to save up for it when you could’ve been helping your family or saving for something you wanted. Do you know how much that means to me? Who takes the time to hand draw the Lucian crest and write a personal poem about me? And you  _know_ things about me that others don’t, you know the real me, I’m not just some unreachable prince out of a fairytale. I don’t even want to know how I’m perceived by others. I don’t even care about them or what they think of me.” Noctis stares into your eyes as he says this, holds your gaze despite the slight flush of his cheeks and his instinct to look away during emotional conversations. He knows the effect that he has on girls and he’s shamelessly using it now on you, his best friend, and you’re trying to care but you don’t.  

You stare back into Noct’s dark gaze and  _fuck_ , it’s almost like you forget how exotic and beautiful the prince really is and you can’t help but tear up at his kind words of love and affirmation. “I know... I know I’m not that special, or...or pretty...but I really do love being your friend, Noct. Not just because I’m your Crownsguard or anything, but like...knowing you as a person. I know that you’re very selective of friends, so thanks for making me feel like...like I wasn’t  _dumped_ on you, y’know. It’s nice that you like being around me for the hell of it.” You wipe a tear from your eye—you can’t help but get emotional, not when Noctis is baring parts of him that he doesn’t bare often.  

“Stand up,” says the prince.  

You blink and look over at Prompto, who’s been silently crying this whole time. Prompto nods like he knows what’s going on and Noctis reaches out a hand and pulls you up, despite your beginning protests of “I’m too heavy,” and suddenly the prince is molding himself to you, pressing his entire body to yours, burying his head in the crook of your neck and snaking one hand in your long, thick hair and bringing the other one around the middle of your back; and almost like it does with Prompto, your breath leaves your body.  

“Noct,” you whisper. “What are you...” 

“Sssshhhh,” Noctis chides. “Let me hug you. And hug me back, dammit.” 

Tentatively, you bring your arms around the prince’s lithe frame and squeeze, conscious of the scar you know he has on his back. You squeeze your chubby hands hard on his upper shoulders and somewhere below you think you hear a sharp intake of breath, but Noct’s breath is hot against your skin and the  _prince of Lucis_ is thanking you in Old Lucian and you’re weeping so openly at the affection that you think your heart’s about to burst.  

The hug is only a few minutes long but eventually, Noctis lets go, but not before kissing the top of your head lightly, leaving you to just stare at him in awe as he sits and finishes his lunch, re-reading his card and eating one of the chocolates and playing with the lure in one hand. You sit back on the cement and somehow regain your composure and focus your attention on Prompto—which is easy, it’s always been way too easy for comfort. The blond’s cheeks are flushed and red from his own tears, dark freckles dancing in the noon sun, blue and violet-specked eyes wide and eager as you draw his pile of gifts out from your bag.  

“OH em gee,” Prompto says. “My first gifts of the day!” He squeals in delight like you’d just handed him the keys to the kingdom and fuck, it’s precious how easily he’s pleased. He smiles big at the card, leaning over to show Noctis the chunky chocobo on the front and the equally cheesy poem on the inside. You hand him the chocobo-shaped box of candy and he laughs at the words on the front.  

“Thanks buddy!” His eyes are big and bright, face like the sun and freckles like stars, and Prompto’s an ocean you think you can drown in forever. You bring out the small white box that’s got Prompto’s other gift in it—you'd wracked your brain for months trying to figure out what to get him until it had hit you a few weeks ago after you’d heard him gushing about it during an arcade date with you and Noctis.  

“What is...” Prompto opens the white box and there’s a gift card inside. He picks it up and stares at it, flips it over to read the access code, and nearly drops it as he slowly raises his eyes back to yours. 

You’re holding your breath in anticipation, hoping you’d done things right. You always want to do things right with Prompto. “If you—don’t like it I can take it back and—” 

“Holy shit,” whispers Prompto as Noctis leans over to get a good look at the small piece of plastic. 

“What is it?” asks Noct.  

“It’s a whole year of access to the premium edition of the Lokton photo-editing software. FotoMaster,” Prompto whispers, dumbfounded. “It’s...there’s nothing better...this is their top-of-the-line product. Dude, __________, holy shit, I....” 

You smile, pleased at his reaction. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Prompto.” 

Prompto looks back at the online access card and then back to you, and suddenly bursts into heavy sobs, lunging himself into your arms with a choked-out cry. He tackles you to the ground and stays on top of you, head buried your shoulder as he’s overwhelmed with your gift; and you have to remember to tell yourself to breathe while simultaneously committing to memory the weight and feel and shape of  _Prompto_ on  _top_ of you. 

He leans up on a forearm, tears splashing your uniform, and his face is flushed and he’s biting his lip and gods, he’s so fucking gorgeous that it makes your heart hurt—and then two things happen as Prompto’s looking at you in utter disbelief.  

He says, or almost says, “I...I could ki...” and then he bites his lip again and trails off and squints his eyes.  

 _What was he going to say_? And you think you hear a sharp inhale from Noctis, but you’re not sure, because your brain is trying to focus on the sudden feel of Prompto’s lips on your cheek.  

Fuck.  _Fuck._ You’re paralyzed with fear as Prompto’s mouth touches your skin—and it’s quick, only a second, but in your reality it might as well have been an eternity. Prompto moves and scurries back to sit beside Noctis, face as red as your uniform tie, and he’s avoiding eye contact as he re-reads the chocobo card for the tenth time and gazes lovingly at the FotoMaster digital download gift card.  

“I, uh, um,” Prompto says smoothly, and Noctis chuckles and claps him on the shoulder.  

The warning bell rings.  

“I’m glad you enjoyed your gifts!” You say as you sit up and stand, gathering the remains of your lunch and your purse.  

Prompto drags his gaze upward and stares at you, jaw slack and face still red until Noctis pats him on the shoulder and he rushes to gather his things.  

 

Later that evening, Prompto and Noctis are playing video games, when Prompto’s character finally dies at the hands of his prince and Noctis  _woohoos_ _!_ with victory.  

“Hey,” says Prompto, voice neutral despite just having his spine ripped out of him.  

“Hm,” says Noctis, already choosing a new fighter.  

“Earlier at lunch,” says Prompto with a sigh as he chooses a character. “Why’d you...why’d you hug her like that?” 

Noctis pauses; he hears the subtle shift in the blond’s tone. “What do you mean?” 

“Like...like you  _hugged_ her, dude.” 

“She’s my friend, she gave me a really special gift. I can’t hug her?” 

“No-no it’s not that, I didn’t say that,” Prompto says defensively, panicked. “You just...the  _way_ you hugged her...”  

“I hugged her because she was soft. And I like soft things.” Noctis sighs. “Prom, listen. I want to apologize. Like, honestly, from the bottom of my heart, apologize. For calling you heavy when we first met. It was insensitive, and I was a dumb kid. And I’m really, really sorry.” Noct raises his dark gaze to Prompto.  

The blond’s mouth hangs open and his cheeks are flushed. “Heh,” Prompto chuckles nervously. “What do you mean, buddy? You didn’t...you didn’t call me ‘heavy,’ I mean why would you do that? I’m like the same size as you.” Prompto’s brain is exploding into a supernova, currently, as he tries to deny Noctis ever having met him before he was a high-schooler. “I mean—oh, yeah, ___________, she’s totally soft, right? She’s good for hugging.” Thank gods, a topic change. Prompto nervously rubs the back of his neck. “But she’s...maybe you can ask me before hugging her like that again...” 

“Why?” Noctis flicks one side of his mouth up into a half-smirk.  _Now_ he’s getting somewhere. “You jealous, buddy? It’s not like you’ve asked her out or anything. She’s my friend too, I can hug her whenever I want, if she lets me. You’re being ridiculous.” Noctis turns back to the TV. “Now let me kick your ass again.” 

Prompto just stares at the prince, face red and heart beating fast. He silently confirms his character and waits for the battle stage to load. “I mean...why...why would I ask her out...?” 

“Astrals, Prompto.” Noctis sighs and pauses the game before they start annihilating each other. “We’ve been over this. You blurted it out six months into having met her. You  _like_ her, dude.” 

“Of course I like her. She’s my friend, my best friend, besides you.” 

 _Of all the..._ Noctis can’t believe this. Were this a diplomatic discussion, he would have thrown the whole treaty out.  _Why are they beating around the bush?_ “Prompto. My dude. My best friend in the whole world. You get  _hard_ watching her eat fruit. You broke your ankle, distracted by the girl eating a banana. That's your dick talking, dude. You fucking  _masturbated_ while you had her on the phone. That’s...unless you do that with everyone—which would be pretty weird and have me examining my life choices, honestly—that means your little gremlin brain has categorized her as something else than a friend.”  

Prompto can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Yeah-yeah but, I mean, what...what does this  _mean_?” 

“You like hugging her, right? Holding her? Going to the arcade, buying her dinner? Getting jealous of me hugging her? Kissing her on the cheek...” 

“It was a thank-you kiss!” Prompto interjects with a whine.  

“Everything she does makes you smile? You dream about holding her hand, kissing her on the lips? You’re in  _love_ , Prompto. You  _love_ her.” 

And that’s it, that’s enough—Prompto bites his lip and the tears start to fall and they don’t stop for a long while. Prompto sobs into Noctis, game controller slipping away and landing softly on the carpet. The blond grabs and grabs Noct’s shirt, burying his face into the prince’s lean chest, letting out raw emotion. Noctis cradles his best friend and doesn’t say anything else, just lets him cry and get snot and salty tears all over him.  

When Prompto calms down and insists on continuing the fighting game, Noctis lets him win.  

 

Part Two: White Day 

A month later finds you trudging to school, dreading the day. At most, you expect a thank you card from both Noctis and Prompto for the month before, but you can’t help but get sharp pangs of jealousy at the elaborate gifts and declarations of love that literally every other girl in the school is going to get except for you. At least it’s a Friday, meaning you can go home and cry yourself to sleep, or maybe go to the arcade with the boys and try to forget that you’re the least desirable person on the face of Eos.  

You slide into class fifteen minutes before the start of school, sighing as you sit at your desk. You close out of the apps on your phone and slide it into your desk, and then your hand brushes something. You grab the mystery thing and pull it out—it's an envelope, sealed with wax and the royal crest.  _How did Noctis get his present in my desk already? He’s not even here yet..._ You open the envelope, and to your surprise, it’s not Noct’s handwriting, nor is the envelope concealing a gift—the letter is from Ignis.  

 _Dear Miss _________ _________,_  

 _His Royal Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum, Crown Prince of Lucis, the Chosen, 114_ _th_ _heir to the line of Lucis, humbly requests that you meet him outside of Insomnia High at 8:00 am sharp for a very special White Day celebration. You have been excused from all duties for today, academic and otherwise._  

 _Kind regards,_  

 _Ignis Scientia,_  

 _Adviser and_ _Crownsguard_ _to HRH Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum_  

 

You glance at your watch; it’s 7:50. You’re unsure of what to do—you've hardly ever missed school in your life, and the other students are already filing in. Tentatively, you gather your things and stand, passing your classmates, who were too absorbed into themselves to notice you leaving. The envelope and the letter are clutched in your hand as you walk the halls, headed for the school entrance—and you nearly collide with your teacher.  

“So-sorry!” You stutter and bow.  

“Miss _________, where are you going?” The gentle voice of your teacher soothes some of your anxiety.  

“I, uh. I’ve been...summoned? By Prince Noctis’ adviser.” You shakily hand her the envelop and letter, and she smiles when she sees the royal seal.  

“I see. I take it Mr. Argentum and his Highness will not be attending classes today, either. Have a good day. I’ll be sure to give you the notes tomorrow.” Your teacher nodded her head and continued on, coffee and work satchel in hand.  

 _Noct_ _and_ _Prompto_ _aren’t here either? What’s going on?_  You duck into the front office and signed yourself out—ah, Crownsguard perks—and then step outside into the chilly March morning.  

Less than a minute later, a sleek black limousine pulls up, and the back window rolls down, revealing a casually-dressed Noctis. The prince smirks and lowers his sunglasses halfway, peering out over the top of them with sparkling blue eyes.  

“Hey, I heard there was a pretty girl looking for a ride?” Noctis lays the charm on thick, even winking as you approach the car.  

You hear a snicker from Gladio inside the back seat. “Have I taught you nothing, Prince Charmless?” 

Noctis whips his head back and frowns. “Hey, I thought that was pretty good!” 

Ignis gives a rare chuckle from beside him. “He has time yet to woo the ladies, Gladiolus.” 

You smirk in return as Noctis faces you again. “Unfortunately, buddy, I’m not like these other girls. I know the  _real_ you, and the real you is a dork and a half. Gonna take a little more to get me into this car. That would totally work on someone else, though.” You chuckle and brush off the prince’s mock advances, even as you feel your cheeks get hot. The line  _definitely_ works, but you’re not about to admit it out loud.  

“Ooooooh, strike one, buddy,” Prompto quips as he leans forward from beside Noctis. “Epic fail. Let’s see if I can try!” The bubbly blond leans over Noctis as the prince pushes his sunglasses back up, sits back and crosses his arms, pouting.  

You sigh. If only Prompto knew that he didn’t even have to  _say_ anything for you to get into a car with him, but you let the boys continue their cheesy roleplay.  

“Okay, okay.” Prompto lowers  _his_ sunglasses halfway down, his equally beautiful blue eyes catching you off-guard like always, making your heart rate speed up. _"The car isn’t the only thing you can_ _ride_ _, if you know what I mean._ ”  

Your mouth drops open. Not only is it a culmination of your schoolgirl fantasies, but Prompto flawlessly delivers the line in Old Lucian. Since when does Prompto speak in 2nd century Lucian? And who the fuck taught him to say _t_ _hat_? The tone and accent change in Prompto’s voice only fuel your hormone-riddled brain and you thank the Astrals that when girls think about sex, no one knows. You feel the heat rising to your cheeks as Prompto smirks and pushes his sunglasses back flush against his face.  

Noctis stares at you. “Eos to __________. I think you broke her, dude. Since when do you speak Old Lucian?” 

“Since Ignis taught that to me last night,” Prompto laughs. “C’mon, _________, time to get in. We’re going for brunch.” 

Your brain still hasn’t fully calibrated as Noctis opens the door and you climb into the car, crawling in to wedge yourself between Prompto and Gladio. “Not fair,” you whine as the car pulls away. “Y’all are in street clothes and I’m in this rotten uniform.” 

Noctis is dressed in dark jeans and a black shirt and bomber jacket. Prompto is equally beautiful in black skinny jeans and a sleeveless shirt with white line art on it and black lace-up boots. Ignis is pressed, as usual, into some creaseless designer suit, all tailored pants and pinstripe button-up and open blazer. Gladio’s had the decency to wear a shirt today, tight black material that hugs his chiseled frame, tucked into black jeans, the line art of his tattoo showing down his exposed arms.  

“That will be solved soon enough, kitten,” says Ignis smoothly as he folds one long leg over the other, typing away nonchalantly on his phone.  

 _Astrals_ _,_ are the guys trying to break your brain today? “What’s all this about, anyway?” You say as you lean on Prompto, the blond eagerly lifting up an arm and putting it around your shoulders. You look up at him curiously.  

Prompto smiles wide and lopsided, eyebrows waggling above the oversize aviators he’s wearing. “Oh, buddy, you’re in for a real treat today! This is your White Day present from all of us!” 

“But...shouldn’t you just get me a card or something?” You look at Ignis and Gladio. “And you guys...I mean I just mailed you some cards in the mail. I mean we’re all friends, right? There’s no point in pulling out the stops for someone like me.” 

“It’s that attitude that makes us wanna do stuff for you,” Noctis says quietly, face slightly flushed.  

“Huh...wha...?” 

“Sweetheart,” Gladio drawls, putting a big meaty hand on your head and ruffling your hair. “You gotta let us treat you sometimes, y’know?” 

“But I don’t deserve...” 

“Bullshit,” retorts Noctis, leaning over Prompto. “You’re our best friend. And you’re...you’re a girl, right?” 

“Excellent observation, Highness,” quips Ignis.  

“Shut up, Specs. I mean...I mean none of us really get a lot of time with girls, y’know, except for you. There’s not a lot of girls in the Glaives or the Crownsguard. So I mean...it’s kinda fun...to hang around you. So please...just let us make you feel special today, all right?” Noctis sits back suddenly, embarrassed, as his two older retainers chuckle.  

Your eyes are still wide as you look back up to Prompto, then to Gladio, and finally to Ignis.  

“So all of you are in on this?” 

“It was mostly Prompto’s idea,” the adviser replies, placing his phone on the car charger.  

You feel the blond stiffen, but his light grip on your arm is still soothing.  

“Our agenda today is simple, ___________. We take you to brunch, then we take you shopping in the East District, followed by lunch at a restaurant of your choosing. After that, the arcade, should you so desire, or another activity of your preference. Our evening will end with dinner reservations at the Crystal Palace. Your parents have been informed of our activities, and we’ll have you home no later than nine o’clock tonight.” 

“Ignis, that’s...that’s too much, I can’t accept it. There’s no way I could ever pay for any of that, or repay you, or...or...” 

“Hey.” Prompto’s firm tone snaps you out of your protesting and you tilt your head upward to look at his mirrored gaze. “Like Iggy told you, it was my idea, all right? And these three had no qualms about it. You’re our best friend. Please. I know if you’d have stayed at school, you’d have just been upset by all the other girls getting stuff. I didn’t want you to be sad all day. So just relax and have fun with us, all right?” 

Stunned by Prompto’s thoughtfulness, you sniff back quiet tears as you lean into his side even more, exhaling stuttered breath as Prompto leans his head on top of yours, smiling over at Ignis in silent thanks.  

 

Brunch is at a new, trendy downtown place that you’d seen advertised on social media. It’s quiet, but that’s to be expected at 8:45 on a weekday. The five of you pile into a semi-circled booth, and you find yourself between Noctis and Prompto, who are trying not to, and failing, to smile like the total dorks that they are. You find yourself starting to relax slightly. You order a Florentine omelet, elbowing Noct as he protests at the spinach that’s going to be on your plate. As the five of you are laughing and talking, a uniformed man comes up to the table with a large bag in hand; you recognize the logo on the shopping bag as belonging to the Neiman Marcus flagship store downtown.  

And you’d recognize those Galadhian braids anywhere.  

“Nyx?” You raise your eyebrow curiously at the glaive.  

“Delivery for Miss __________,” he says with a smile, leaning across the table and handing you the sizable bag.  

“For...for me?” You take the bag after a moment’s hesitation, flicking your eyes to Ignis. “All right Ignis, what’s this about?” 

“The beginnings of your gift, darling. That one’s from me. Why don’t you go to the bathroom and change?” 

“Seriously, Iggy, you didn’t have to...” 

“Hey,” says Noctis, looking up from blowing bubbles in his chocolate milk. “C’mon man, if you’re gonna fight us all day, we’re taking you home.” 

“Okay,  _rude_ ,” you quip as you stick your tongue out at him. “Fine.” You take the bag from Nyx, and Prompto gets up to let you out. “Uh, thanks Nyx.” 

“No problem babe, just doing as ordered. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a Citadel to protect.” 

“My thanks, Ulric,” Ignis purrs, smiling at him.  

You don’t miss how Nyx flushes a little as he bows in Noct’s direction, turns on his heel, and leaves the restaurant.  

“I knew he’d be punctual,” the adviser says as he checks his phone again.  

You head to the women’s bathroom of the restaurant and lock yourself into a handicapped stall and rummage through the contents of the bag. You pull out, still on its hanger, a long, soft, black maxi dress; a glittery gold belt to cinch your waist; thin black leggings; and short black boots with little buckle details on them. Wrapped in a box at the bottom is a long pendant with a large skull dangling from the end of it. You bite your lip and sigh—the tags are still on everything, which means that this is freshly bought; and as much as you want to dig for a receipt in the bag and scold Ignis for spending so much money on you, you know that Ignis is nothing if not thorough--there's no receipt to be found, and the prices on the tags are torn off. Resigning yourself to enjoy the day, you strip from your school uniform and change into the soft dress and accessories.  

When you walk back out to the table, the boys are all preoccupied with some basket of pastries that’s made its way to them; but Prompto just happens to look up first and when he sees you, his eyes go wide and his jaw goes a little slack. He whacks at Noctis a few times, which earns him some retaliation until the blond grabs the prince’s head and physically turns it until his eyes are on you. Noct’s face twists into roughly the same expression as Prompto, and the two older retainers follow suit; and you suddenly exposed and embarrassed as you cross the restaurant back to your party.  

“Uh,” you say. “The outfit is really nice, Ignis. Thank...thank you. I don’t know what to say.” 

“I do,” says Gladio as he leans to take the department-store bag which now holds your school uniform and shoes. “Holy shit girl, you clean up good.” 

“Gladiolus, please,” chides Ignis. “Go run that out to the car if you’re going to be such a brute.” 

Gladio chuckles and pats you on the shoulder as he stands up from the table and takes the bag outside.  

Prompto slides out of the booth and lets you back in next to Noctis; neither of their eyes have left you.  

“You look super good,” says Noctis quietly. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress before.” 

“Uh, um. Well you see me in a skirt every day?” 

The prince huffs. “That’s different. I mean not that you don’t look nice every day but...oh forget it.” 

You laugh as you pat Noctis on the shoulder. “Thanks, Noct. I appreciate the compliment.” 

“I agree with his Highness,” says Ignis as he butters a croissant. “You look exquisite. I knew that outfit would suit you.” 

“I’m embarrassed that you know my size,” you mumble.  

Ignis waves his hand. “Of course; got it off your Crownsguard application. It’s just a number, ____________.” 

“Yeah but...” you sigh and turn to Prompto, who’s still looking at you like a chocobo in headlights. “Eos to Prom, you in there buddy?” 

“Um, uh,” the blond stutters. “I third that motion. You do look really nice, ____________. Like...like  _really_ nice.” 

It’s Prompto’s comment on the dress that makes you flush the most, and you quickly turn your head and occupy yourself with a whole-grain English muffin.  

 

Next on the agenda is the shopping in the East District, which makes you whine even more because the East District is where the nobles shop; where Noctis probably shops; and even though the stores have some foot traffic, the second that Noctis steps into one, the general public is ushered out and you’re virtually given a private shopping spree. Ever five steps ahead, Ignis assures you that whatever articles of clothing you pick out will be tailor-made to your size and shipped directly to your house. The way that the guys are glaring daggers at the skinny, lithe sales reps makes you chuckle; it’s as if they’re daring them to say anything. This is  _Prince Noctis_ and his retainers, and dammit if the Crown is going to commission a shirt in a size ____ when they normally only carry up to a size medium, then they’re very well going to make it.  

Prompto’s preoccupied with taking artsy pictures of the aesthetically-pleasing architecture of the East District and all of its grand fashion houses and flagship stores; Noctis is pulling Ignis into an upscale outdoor lifestyle store, leaving you and Gladio to duck into a small, elegant bookstore at the end of the long block.  

“Welcome,” says the small man behind the counter. “Can I help you find anything?” 

“We’re just looking, I think!” you say with a smile, but you notice as the other man’s face twists into flushed recognition as he sizes up Gladio.  

“Holy Astrals,” says the man. “You’re the son of Clarus Amicitia.” 

“Hm?” Gladio turns from the free-standing rack of new historical fiction books, one already in hand, open to the first page. “Oh uh, yeah. Gladiolus Amicitia, nice to meet you.” 

“What are...what are you doing in my store?” The man squeaks, blushing.  

You raise an eyebrow, amused at the very obvious arousal on the man’s face. You turn to look up at Gladio, who’s got a wolfish grin spreading like wildfire as he sizes up his prey. He closes the book and _glides_ —how does he do that, anyway—to the counter and leans on it, getting  _very_ up close and personal to the flustered clerk.  

He’s about as tall as Noctis, maybe an inch or two higher, with frizzy untamed brown hair and oversize dorky glasses. He’s about as skinny as Prompto, and he’s dressed like Ignis, button-up shirt and slacks, from what you can see; and  _gods_ , he’s sweating hard, unconsciously licking his lips every three seconds as Gladio casually leans on the counter and asks him for book recommendations. You nearly choke on your own spit as you hear him ask if this shop stocks the  _kama sutra_ , and you don’t need to look at the smaller guy to know his soul has probably left his body.  

Giggling, you exit the shop and wait for Prompto to catch up to you. He takes another picture, and you admire him—and his backside—as he’s crouched down near the curb, camera angled up at the Vivienne Westwood store across the street. He lowers his camera and stands, and then turns; upon seeing you, he jogs over, big wide grin that’s all sunshine and warmth spread across his face.  _Gods_. He’s so heartbreakingly beautiful. He could be a model. Hell, they all could, and Noctis is already the prince, besides. Suddenly, those old feelings resurface, and you tilt your head down, sniffing back the tears you can already feel forming behind your eyes.  

“Hey buddy,” says Prompto as he approaches, and you can hear the drop in his tone. “You okay? You were fine earlier, is it...is it...?”  

You look back up at him, sunglasses pushed up into his messy blond hair, freckles dancing in the morning sun, crystal blue eyes wide and deep and... 

“Yeah—yeah, Prom. I’m fine. Can you...can we just walk together?” 

Prompto bites his lip and nods.  _Astrals,_ you want to run your tongue over his bottom lip and bite it yourself; but of course you don’t, opting for a bold move you’d only done a couple of times in the past—you grab his hand and he jolts for just a second before wrapping his long, slender fingers around your hand. The two of you slowly pass the bookshop just as Gladio comes out carrying the book he’d picked up, pocketing a pink post-it note into the front of his jeans.  

You look at him and smile. “I take it your bookstore encounter went well?” 

Gladio winks at you and grins wide. “Cute guy. Didn’t take much for me to wrangle a date out of him.” 

“Well he did like, undress you with his eyes as soon as we stepped in there, so.” 

Gladio laughs and ruffles your hair again, and then he raises an eyebrow at the hand-holding.  

“Beginnings of a panic attack,” explains Prompto, kind of nervously as he squeezes your hand. “Helps to have physical contact as a grounding agent, y’know.” 

Gladio’s face softens as he meets your gaze. “This too overwhelming, sweetheart? We can just go back to Noct’s place and hang out, if you want.” 

You shake your head. “No, no, I’ll be fine. I just...my thoughts, y’know. Just trying to still convince me that I don’t belong here. With Noct. With all of you.” You sniff.  

Gladio looks to Prompto, who nods; and before you can register it, the massive bulk of the shield is surrounding you in a warm, crushing hug; you feel Prompto drop your hand as he moves behind you and leans his head on your shoulder.  

“We’ve got you,” Prompto whispers in your ear, doing nothing to lower your heart rate. “You’re one of us, always will be. Don’t ever let anyone else tell you otherwise.” 

You clutch at Gladio’s back, squeezing hard, and the older man responds in kind.  

 

You opt for lunch at a much more low-key place, a Galadhian food truck that’s making the rounds in the outer limits of the city, and the five of you walk to a local park and plop down at some picnic tables. The limo waits in the parking lot. You feel much more at ease among the more middle-class neighborhoods, though you’ll have to admit that being able to pick out a few high-end articles of clothing was insanely fun...as long as Ignis kept the price tags a secret. Your panic attack has subsided, and Noct found a new fishing shirt and a new rod that he’d slipped into the Armiger, and Prompto chuckles at the thought.  

“So can you like, keep  _anything_ in there?” The blond teases. “Like, what if Gladio goes to grab his sword and grabs your fishing rod instead? Have you ever stored leftover food in there and forgotten about it? Do the glaives keep shit in there too?” 

“Nah, it’s rare to like, accidentally summon something,” Noctis says, mouth full of sticky rice, which earns him an elbow-to-the-ribs from Ignis. The prince swallows before continuing. “You gotta like,  _visualize_ what you’re pulling out of there. So if I’m summoning my engine blade, that’s what I’m gonna get. And no, but Gladio stored lube in there once.” 

“Hey!” The shield blushes in a rare moment of being caught off guard. “I panicked, okay? I was trying to hide it from my dad. And Iris. It was only in there for like, a day.” 

“It was enough time for me to find it when I was trying to summon my daggers for training,” Ignis says with a smirk. 

“Oh yeah, and if you have to consciously look for something, how’d you find it, Specs?” Noctis winks. 

Ignis stiffens and adjusts his glasses. “I simply noticed the pull of a foreign object, and curiosity got the best of me. I can assure you, I put it right back.” The adviser looks down at his noodles and guides his chopsticks in. 

You giggle as you put another piece of spicy pork in your mouth. “Armiger, Divine Power of the Kings of Yore, good for both weapons and sex toys. Good to know.” 

Prompto snorts into his soda as he drinks, making himself hiccough with laughter. You laugh and slap his back, trying to help—but Prompto doesn’t stop for at least another five minutes. You think it’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.  

Your date with the four boys continues with a trip to the arcade, as per Ignis’ agenda—and before you know it, you’d burned off all the calories of lunch playing  _Dance Fever 8._ Prompto has taken back the high score on some large first-person shooter, and Gladio is trying his damnedest to beat the claw machine and win a Moogle plush. Ignis has tucked himself into one of the grimy booths by the snack bar. You glance at your phone and notice that it’s nearly five o’clock. Gods, had the day passed so quickly already? You glance up to see Ignis typing away on his cell; the other three are absorbed in gameplay of their own and after six consecutive losses at  _Mrs. Pac-Man,_ you need a break. You walk over to Ignis’ booth and sit next to him, shoulders touching.  

The adviser bristles for a moment before relaxing. You watch him hit  _send_ on a lengthy email with three attachments, and then he pockets his phone. He turns, and you look up to meet his emerald gaze.  

“Everything all right?” Ignis asks in his usual way, as if he hadn’t just made you feel like a princess over the last nine hours.  

“Oh, I’m great, Iggy. This is all...it was too much, really. But I have enjoyed myself. I hope it doesn’t seem like I’m unappreciative, or whatever, I’m just...I’m just not used to all of this.” 

“Mmmmmm,” Ignis hums. “Not used to all the attention, you mean? Especially from royalty.” 

“I know Prom is super casual about it, but maybe it’s different because I’m in the Crownsguard too. Sometimes it just hits me out of nowhere, just  _who_ Noct is, y’know. And it’s weird that he...you, Prom, Gladio...would even want to be  _friends_ with someone like me. I’ve been on the edge of a panic attack all day about it. I don’t deserve any of this.” 

“My dear,” says Ignis, bringing gloved hands to your chin and tilting your head up so you can get an even better look at his chiseled features, his full lips and perfect cupid’s bow, and his expertly coiffed hair. “You really must realize how special you are to the four of us. What we’ve done today is just a fraction of the gratitude that we owe you for coming to us, to Noct, when he needed you the most. His first day of high school, when he came home alone and I made him dinner at his apartment for the first time, he positively  _gushed_ about you and Prompto. It doesn’t matter to him where you’ve come from—the prince sees the heart, sees the good in all of us. And your friendship is worth more to him than the entire kingdom of Lucis.” 

You bite back tears at Ignis’ words and nod, not trusting yourself to say anything back for fear of sounding dumb.  

“As for Gladiolus and myself, any friend of Noct’s is a friend of ours. You’ve more than proven your worth as both his friend and Crownsguard. Besides, it’s good for him to have a little feminine influence. You’re very good to him, ____________. Please believe that.”  

“Heh, well. Since I’m in the habit of telling you secret shit that no one else knows about...you wanna know what’s  _not_ good for  _me_? The way that the four of you have looked all day.” You feel heat rising to your cheeks as Ignis’ hand drops from your chin. “It’s just...you’re all so beautiful. And you know, Gladio got some dude’s number today. How does that even happen? I bet it happens like seven days a week for that guy.” 

“You could just...tell Prompto how you feel, you know. It’s not that hard.” 

“It’s just brain surgery, it’s not that hard,” you retort back in a mock accent that makes Ignis snort. “Moving on Igs, plan b for the hopeless romantic over here.” You sigh as you watch Prompto wipe out on his fifth round of  _Dance Fever 8_ , which makes Noctis stop his own rhythm dance routine to laugh and snap a cell phone picture for posterity. 

“Charming,” Ignis deadpans.  

“I want to have his children,” you mutter, and Ignis snorts again, and you feel proud that you’ve made the prickly adviser laugh twice today.  

 

The limo pulls up to the Crystal Palace, one of the most elite, decadent restaurants in Insomnia almost an hour after the five of you have exhausted your arcade capabilities for the day (Gladio never did get that Moogle plush and now he’s out 3000 yen, he grumbles). You feel majorly under-dressed, but Ignis assures you that since the reservation is under Noct’s name, you could walk in there nude and they’d serve you. Well. Okay then. You and Prompto scurry out of the car onto the curb, but instead of following, Noctis says, “We’re going to the garage across the street with the car, you two go ahead and get our table.” 

Prompto nods to the prince, and if he thinks anything’s odd about the three of them not getting out, he says nothing, only ushering you inside the revolving doors with a rare grace.  

“Weird,” you say as you look back at the limo that’s pulling into the parking garage outside. “Why didn’t they just...get out?” 

“Dunno,” says Prompto quietly as he approaches the host stand.  

The older refined gentleman at the stand looks up and doesn’t smile. “Can I help you?” 

“Hey!” says Prompto brightly, flashing one of his toothy grins that lights up the whole planet. “Uh, reservations under Prince Noctis?” 

The host cocks an eyebrow but says nothing as he scans the tablet in front of him. " _The_ Prince Noctis? But you’re not him.” 

“Oh, uh, no, duh dude, of course not. He’s on his way, parkin’ the limo. Y’know. How princes are, all fancy and stuff. With their limos. Heh heh.” 

“Curious,” says the man. “The reservation under his Highness is a table for two. The reservation is under his name, yes; but it says the guests are only a Miss ___________ and a Mr. Argentum?” 

“Oh! Oh, well, that’s us. Weird. Uh. But we made it! Good ol’ Noct, what a pal.” Prompto fidgets nervously with the black bracelet that’s replaced the green and white sweatband. 

“Prompto,” you finally interject, having heard enough of the awkward exchange. “What’s going on? What does he mean the reservation is only for two? There’s five of us!” 

Prompto looks down at you and bites his lip as the annoyed host is gathering menus and silverware. “So uh. I kinda. I kinda asked Iggy if he could score us spots for this place...alone.” 

 _Date_ _date_ _date_ _date_ _date_ _date_ _date_ your mind is screaming as you stare at him.  _Surely this can’t be a date._ _Prompto_ _wouldn’t ask me on a date. He doesn’t like me like_ that _, this isn’t like_ that _, we’re_ friends, your garbage brain tells you, and you believe the lie. You break into a smile to ease Prompto’s obvious anxiety. “Man, that’s so cool Prompto! I’m excited to try this place with you. Uh,” you look to the host, who’s tapping his fingers against the podium. “Has a method of payment already been provided, or...? Cuz I’m gonna be washing dishes here for a week if Ignis expects us to pay for this.” 

“The Crown has an open tab with the Crystal Palace, ma’am,” the host sniffs, as if you were supposed to know that little detail. “Any charges made under the king’s name, or the prince’s, is placed on the tab and the Citadel gets billed at the end of the month. Rest assured. Your measly pocketbooks are safe. Now if you’re all done making small talk, please, for the love of the Six, follow me.” The host turns on his heel.  

“Damn, who shit in his oatmeal this morning?” Prompto huffs, which makes you laugh out loud. You clap a hand over your mouth as several heads turn in your direction, lips drawn into thin lines and looking pretty nonplussed; and Prompto slings his arm over your shoulder and guides the two of you after the host.  

When you’re seated and the waitress has come with back with your drinks (water and sparkling white grape juice in glasses) and has walked away again with your food order, you’re left feeling oddly nervous. Well. You’re usually nervous around Prompto, and with the guys looking like ridiculously photoshopped magazine covers all day, it’d really kicked it into high gear (again, what in the hell was in Insomnia’s water, how were the four of them  _that_ attractive); but you and Prom had an easy routine, usually; one full of funny jokes and  _dude_ and _bro_ and video games and monster movies and pizza and mutual comfort during anxiety attacks and lunches on the roof with Noct. You knew, for the most part, how to be  _normal_ around him. How to be his best friend. Then why, all of a sudden, were you finding it so hard to breathe? 

“Can’t believe how swanky and romantic this place is,” Prompto mumbles as he skims the dessert menu that’s been left on the table. “Oh wow, they have tiramisu! An authentic Altissian recipe. Sweet. We should totally get some.” 

“Oh, oh yeah! Sounds good, Prom, we can if you want.” 

“Wait. It’s dessert. You’ll really eat it with me?” He’s forming that puppy-dog stare with his gorgeous blue eyes and  _fuck_ , you want to lean across this table and drink him till he’s dry.  

“I, uh. Yes. Yes, Prompto. If that’s what you want for dessert, I’ll eat it with you.” 

“Score!” says Prompto, a little too loudly, earning you more looks from the older patrons around you. “That just made my day man.” He smiles at you as he leans on the table, arms folded one over another. “So uh.” 

“Yeah?” You lean forward and put your arms on the table too. You’re inches apart from his face, and you’re just staring at him—trying, like you’ve been doing since the first day you laid eyes on him, to find a flaw on his face but you  _can’t_ and it’s driving you  _bananas_ —and you realize just how close the two of you are, sitting across the small table, when you hear a familiar grunt behind you.  

You pull away from Prompto, who’s looking around to your direction, and you spot Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio, at a booth in the distance; all six eyes are watching you and Prompto like hawks.  

Prompto gulps and nervously waves. You turn to the blond. “I’ll, uh. Be right back.” And you’re up and away and storming like a bullet to the royal asshole trio.  

 

“Excuse me but what the fuck,” you hiss as you get to the table, and Noct’s already laughing his ass off. “Are you,” you point at Ignis, “trying to literally kill me?” 

“What’s the big deal?” asks Galdio. “We were told tables for six were all booked up tonight, so we thought we’d end the day split up.” The shield winks at you as his phone pings. “Oh hey, it’s my man from the bookstore. Be right back guys, gotta take this.” Gladio answers the call and slides from the booth, walking briskly to the front doors and then outside.  

Ignis smirks as he adjusts his glasses. “I apologize for the deception, __________, but it was at Prompto’s request. It was, if I recall, his desire to have a  _best_ _friend_ meal with just the two of you.” 

You glare daggers at the adviser as you look at Noctis, who’s already mentally eliminating half the menu based on how many vegetables are in each dish. “This doesn’t bother you?” 

Noctis shrugs. “You’re both my best friends. But if Prom wants some one-on-one time, I ain’t stopping him.” The prince lowers his menu and looks at you and  _winks_.  

“I’m going to kill both of you.” 

“Good luck,” says Ignis.  

“That’s treason,” laughs Noctis, but you’re already on your way back to Prompto’s table by the time the prince has finished his retort.  

 

“Every...everything okay?” Prompto asks as you huff and slide into the chair.  

“Yeah just...” You shake your head, unwilling to ask the questions you so desperately want to. “I’m okay Prom.” You take a swig of your sparkling grape juice.  

The blond smiles and leans back over the table. “So uh...didja...didja have fun today?” 

“What? Oh! Oh yeah, dude. Today was like...the best. Skipping school, hanging out with all of you? Getting spoiled rotten? Geez, I don’t even know what to think.” You look up at him and smile and nervously tuck your hair behind your ear.  

Prompto follows your movements with his eyes like your hands are magic, and you’re burning under his gaze as your hand drops.  

“I feel really special. I don’t feel like I deserve any of it, but.” You lower your gaze. “I’m so glad you’re my friend, Prompto.” 

“Hey,” the blond almost whispers. “Me too. You and Noct, you’re both so special to me. If I didn’t have  _you_ , I wouldn’t have anyone.  So uh. Happy White Day. You know I’m a klutz with words, and hell, with actions; I couldn’t really think of a  _gift_ gift to give you in return... So that’s why I asked Iggy and the others to help me plan this day for you. As a thank you. I mean, technically half of today was Noct’s thank-you, but...you get what I mean,” Prompto flails.  

You chuckle lightly as you reach across the table and place a hand on Prompto’s arm. “I’m so thankful for you, Prompto. And Noct too. Today was wonderful. Thank you, really. I feel out-gifted now.” 

Ah, it’s...it’s not a competition!” Prompto waves his hands defensively. “Seriously, we did this because we wanted to. And uh. I just wanted you to feel special.” 

“You’ve made me feel very special, Prompto.” You smile just in time for your food to arrive, all further conversation falling away in lieu of feasting. 

 

The tiramisu comes on a small plate with two spoons and you try not to freak out as you and Prompto share the dessert; the moans of delight the blond makes around the creamy food is not helping your libido at all, and all you care do is stare at his lips while he eats.   

 

The limo ride back to your house is quiet—Noctis is sprawled across Gladio’s lap on the other side of the car, one foot dangling off the seat and the other on top of Ignis’ lap; the adviser, is, as usual, sending an email on his phone, but even he’s yawning. The shield is alternating between reading and answering a text message about every ten seconds—probably the lovestruck bookstore employee, you think. Seriously, how is so  _easy_ for some people to just get a phone number, get a date? 

 Prompto’s got his arms around you and he’s lightly dozing with his head on your shoulder, but your heart is pounding too much for you to even think about sleep. You feel the car roll to a stop and you look out of the window to see the familiar lights of your house.  

“Guess this is my stop.” You wiggle a little and pat Prompto’s soft hair. “Wake up buddy, your pillow is leaving.” 

“Nooooooooo,” Prompto whines sleepily, drool rolling from the corner of his mouth; and it shouldn’t be attractive, but it is. “No leave.” 

“Yes leave,” you laugh. “C’mon, I’ve got training tomorrow, and I’m beat.” 

Prompto groans and lifts himself away from you, cracking one eye as you move from the seat and open the limousine door.  

“See you tomorrow buddy,” Prompto yawns. “Happy White Day and stuff.” 

“Thanks Prom. See ya. Get some rest.” You grab the shopping bag, still holding your long-forgotten uniform. “Thank you so much Ignis. For everything.” 

The adviser waves his hand. “A small expense to show our favorite medic a good time.” He smiles and nods his head. “Good night, ____________, and pleasant dreams.” 

“G’night sweetheart,” says Gladio, finally looking up from his phone. “Hope you had fun.” 

“I did, Gladio, thanks. Bye guys.” And you climb out of the limo, shopping bag and backpack in hand, and walk up the sidewalk to your house.  

 

Inside the limo on the drive across town to Noct’s apartment, however, is much less quiet than when you were in the car.  

“You absolute  _moron_ ,” says Noctis, sitting up as Gladio shoves him away. “You planned this whole fuckin’ day for her, ending with dinner at the  _Crystal Palace_ , and you  _still_ couldn’t ask her out? Or kiss her? Or fucking  _something_?” 

“Highness,” chides Ignis at the language.  

“I’m sorry,” whispers Prompto. “I couldn’t...I can’t...there’s no way. There’s no way. She’s so out of my league, guys. Thanks for...thanks for trying to help, but...you’re right, I am a moron.” 

“Dude,” says Noctis as he crosses to the seat where Prompto is staring dejectedly at his hands. “You’re not really, I’m sorry. I’m just tired of seeing you so hurt about this.” He claps Prompto on the shoulder. “Maybe...maybe you’re just not ready yet. Maybe next year, when we’re seniors? You’ll definitely get a confidence boost then, I just know it.” 

Prompto shrugs. “I guess. I just...I had so much fun today but I can’t stop thinking about how much...how much...” And Prompto sobs into Noct’s arms the entire way home, with Gladio and Ignis looking at their phones the whole way across Insomnia, silent.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO END SAD BUT THEN IT DID, FUCK I'M SORRY  
> ______  
> Idk if really implied IgNyx here, or if Ignis just gets everyone flustered. You decide. ;)  
> Also YEAH I DID IT GLADIO'S BI IN THIS THING


	9. I'm Sick of Camping--Period.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get your period on the road. Camping sucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YALL WHY DO I KEEP WRITING THESE 11K WORD THINGS I DON'T EVEN KNOW  
> _____  
> Credits to my babe Amanda (@flopity_flips) for the title, and for letting me bounce ideas and stuff off of her during this writing process, as usual.  
> _____  
> A FEW THINGS:
> 
> 1) Prepare your teeth because this fluff is gonna rot it out, I swear
> 
> 2) I dip into serious possible bisexual Reader territory here; so if that's not your jam, feel free to skip this chapter, I won't even be mad. (But don't give anti-gay comments, I will be Upset. This is fanfiction y'all. It ain't that serious. Move on if you don't like it.) 
> 
> 3) CIndy is definitely bi in this, fight me. 
> 
> 4) SUPPORTIVE BROS ARE SUPPORTIVE AND NOT GROSSED OUT BY PERIODS. Honestly writing this was very therapeutic. Fight me, Noctis & Co. will not freak out over a period. They have bigger things to worry about. And the reader is their bff--of course they're gonna be supportive. No toxic masculinity here, bye!
> 
> 5) PROMPTO CAN SING, FIGHT ME. Also Elvis is XV canon now because his loves songs make me cry and I'm a sap.

You’re intertwined in Prompto’s arms as much as physically possible. The skinny, muscled blond is absolutely  _molded_ to you, hard frame pushed against soft fat as the sun rises over the haven. Your mind suddenly snaps awake, breaking you out of another weird dream—the  Astrals  are always involved in these weird dreams, and sometimes they speak to you and you wake up, never really sure of the meaning or what you’re supposed to do—all you can do is fight for Noctis, protect Noctis, support Noctis. You figure that if gods want you to do something else, they’ll tell you in a much more direct way. You shift a little, sighing into  Prompto’s  warm embrace, when you feel— _fuck._ It’s wet between your legs, but not in the  _I need this gorgeous man to fuck me_ kind of way. You’re wet in the once-a-month kind of way, and  _shit_ , you’re early, because you weren’t expecting this for at least another week and a half, and—Gladio peeks into the tent, and he sees you move.  

“Up and at ‘em, sweetheart. You wanna train with me? Let’s see how those close combat skills are coming along.” 

“Gladio,” you groan. “I honestly can’t. I’ve...I’ve  _started_.” 

“Started,” repeats the shield. “Started...oh.  _Oh._ Shit, do you need anything?” 

“A morphine drip and a hot shower and a week of bedrest,” you reply, shuffling out of Prompto’s sleepy death grip and sitting up a little. You run your hand through your hair and stare at Gladio, who’s come into the tent now, sitting across both his and Ignis’ sleeping bags.  

You look over to your other side, where Noctis is all balled up and breathing deeply. Prompto is drooling and kind of grabbing at air with his hands—it's so cute how used he’s become to holding you and being next to you in his sleep. Lifting the sleeping bag, you wince, because it looks like a daemon was murdered between your legs.  _Shit._ There’s even blood on the sleeping bag, and your inner thighs and shorts are stained bright red. You sigh and look back at Gladio. “There’s blood everywhere,” you say, pained. “I...where’s Ignis? I’m going to have to go to a hotel or a caravan or something.” 

Gladio nods in understanding and gets up to fetch the adviser.  

You lean down and card your fingers through Prompto’s spikey blond hair and nibble at his ear as you whisper. “Prom, babe. You gotta get up.” 

Prompto groans and shoves his face further into the pillow. 

“Prompto.” 

“Mmmmmmppppphhhh.” 

“I’m bleeding.” 

That gets him. Prompto turns his face back to the side and cracks an eye, assessing you for damage. “Where ya bleeding,” he says sleepily. “I’ll get a potion...” 

“It’s not a wound. I started my period early. And it’s everywhere.” 

Prompto yawns and blinks his eyes into full openness, then shifts and lifts the sleeping bag to see your legs and shorts, and the spots on the inside of the bag. “Shit,” he says. “Are you sure you’re okay? That’s...that’s kind of a lot.” 

“That’s just the beginning,” you start to explain, but Ignis ducks into the tent at that moment, kneeling beside Prompto.  

“Dear,” he starts. “Tell us what you need.” Ignis unconsciously wrinkles his nose.  

You wince at the movement. “It’s gross, I know. Sorry. Um. We need to get the bags cleaned up. And me.” 

Ignis bristles. “I’m...I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to...” He frowns. “Forgive my rudeness. Of course it’s not your fault.” 

You laugh quietly. “Been dealing with it since I was twelve, dude. I know how it smells.”  

Prompto sits up and stretches, planting a soft kiss on your cheek before shuffling out of the combined sleeping bags. It had been abnormally warm that night, so Prompto’s just in a white tank top and boxers—there's blood on the leg that was wedged between your thighs. “Branded for life,” he chuckles, gesturing to the red streaks on the skin above his knee.  

Ignis gestures to the small bag above the head of his spot. “There are sanitary wipes in that bag, Prompto. Please clean yourself.” 

The sharpshooter nods and goes to dig for the wipes.  

“About how long do your cycles last?” Ignis asks, turning back to you.  

“I usually bleed for four full days. I’m just gonna be straight-up, Iggy—I will probably be useless this week.” 

“You’re never useless.” 

“Well, I’ll feel like it. I mean.” You sigh. “I can’t believe I’m having to have this conversation.” 

“Don’t sweat it,” says Prompto, wiping the last of the blood from his leg and putting the used wipes in the garbage bag. “We’re all your friends, and I’m your boyfriend, besides. This is something that like, half the population goes through. If we can’t help you through it, what kinda men are we?” 

Emotions always run high during this time of the month, and Prompto’s kind words tug at your heartstrings and you begin to tear up. Prompto moves to kneel behind you and put his arms around your front, resting his head on your shoulder.  

“Please continue,” says Ignis patiently.  

“I think...I think it would just be best if I went and stayed somewhere. A camper, a hotel...I can help someone do  _something,_ do some odd jobs and get paid so I’m not straining our resources. I’m just...my flow is pretty heavy and I have to change pads often—I get nauseated and crampy and bloated, and I can ease my pain to an extent, but not completely.” 

“Some things are just beyond magic,” Ignis muses. “I can’t say that I’m ecstatic about having to leave you alone somewhere for almost a week, but I know that this predicament would best be handled in comfort, not the drudgery of camping and fighting.” 

“I just won’t be operating at full capacity. I’ll feel like a burden, having to stop every hour to use the bathroom, y’know.” 

Ignis nods and he knows not to fight it. “This is your territory, and no one knows your body like you do. Where do you think would be best for you to go?” 

You look down at your lap and furrow your brows. Where could you go—who could you help in exchange for room and board and non-hunting jobs? What about... “What about Hammerhead? You think Cindy would let me help her with stuff and stay in the caravan out back? I could help Takka wait tables, and I could do odd jobs for Cid in the garage...” 

“An excellent idea! It might help you to be around the familiar comforts of another woman, to boot.” Ignis gets to his feet, bent over as he glides out. “Why don’t you wake his Highness and explain your situation? I’m sure he’d be happy to give Ms. Aurum a call for you.” 

Prompto’s still kneeled behind you, face buried in the crook of your neck. “Don’t want you to go,” he whispers. “I’ll miss you.”  

“I know Prompto. But these things just happen, y’know? It’s really best for me to be inside. And sleep on a bed. Not that I don’t  _always_ want to sleep on a bed, but. You know. It’s easier to handle the ground when one of my internal organs isn’t tearing itself apart.”  

Prompto nods and lifts his head so he can place soft kisses along your shoulder. “How can I help you get cleaned up?” 

“Well, I need to change, definitely. It’d be nice to at least rinse my clothes.” 

“What about the bag? How can we clean it without throwing the whole thing under the waterfall?” 

“Does Ignis have hydrogen peroxide? If you pour it on the stain it’ll take it mostly out and sanitize it. Actually, it’d be nice to use it for my clothes too. Will you help me carry my bag?”  

“Of-of course!” Prompto gets up and helps you stand, then grabs your small backpack from the head of the bed. There’s a change of clothes and a few pads and tampons in there that you always have on hand for emergencies, plus some toiletries, so you’re set for the next couple of hours until you can get back to Hammerhead. The stain on the sleeping bag is pretty dry, so there’s no use fussing about it until after you’ve cleaned up yourself. You look over at Noctis again and place a hand on his shoulder, shaking and patting gently.  

“Noctis,” you say quietly.  

“Mmmmmpphhh.”  

“So you are awake, you faker.” 

“Kinda hard to sleep with so much talking,” he whines.  

“Yeah, sorry. I’ve got a situation, though.” 

Noctis lazily turns and opens one brilliant blue eye, then the other, and stares at you. “I heard,” he breathes. “You need Cindy?” 

“Please.” 

“I’ll call her. You go get cleaned up. Don’t worry about it—we can handle ourselves. You take care of you.” He gives a soft smile. “We’ll take you to Hammerhead so you can ride this out.” 

“Thanks Noctis.” 

“Not your fault,” he starts to say, but another yawn cuts him off.  

 

Prompto follows you away from the haven to the small pond and waterfall that’s nearby, carrying your backpack and a small duffle bag of his own. You strip down and jump into the cold pond, thankful that one with a waterfall is so close so you can actually feel as though the grime is being washed away with some kind of force. Prompto spreads out a small tarp on the ground and lays out soap and shampoo for the both of you, plus a change of clothes and three towels. He strips, but hands you your own stained pajamas and underwear so you can rinse out the worst of the blood-saturated fabric before he gets in.  

“Shit it’s cold!” the blond says as he splashes. “Think my balls just retracted up into my stomach.”  

The comment makes you giggle-snort; and you pile your wet, stained clothes on the edge of the tarp before paddling over to Prompto, who’s moved closer to the waterfall, desperate to feel some sort of current. He opens his arms and pulls you into a hug, sinking you both into the water.  

“Does this make you feel better?” Prompto asks, tucking your hair behind one ear.  

“A little. Hot water helps more, though, but it feels good to be clean.” You wrinkle your nose. “I bet I’m upsetting whatever ecosystem is in this pond, though.”  

Prompto laughs and kisses you softly on the mouth, and you instinctively sigh into the kiss and return it with fervor.  

“You’re not grossed out, are you? I’m like, bleeding all over the place here. I got blood on your leg, dude,” you say quietly as you pull back a little.  

Prompto laughs. “Dude, there are lots of things that gross me out. Periods aren’t one of them. It’s not like you can help it. It’s natural. Besides, women are badasses. What else can bleed for a week and not die? Damn bro. You’re like, my hero.” 

You laugh as you pull away from Prompto and duck completely under water, coming up to see him rising from his own dunk. Prompto shakes his head like a dog, making his blond hair stick up in wild, messy points. He stays put as you swim back to the edge of the pond and gather your soap and shampoo and move back to the waterfall, finding a smooth boulder to sit on near a stray stream of water that’s a little apart from the main downpour. The climb up is slippery but you manage to make it without falling.  

Prompto stays in the water and watches you as you lather your hair and rub the soap between your hands and scrub yourself down. You stop halfway through to look at him.  

“Can I help you?” 

“Nope!” the blond quips eagerly. “Just admiring my gorgeous girlfriend, pay no attention to the man under the water.” 

You snort and roll your eyes, feeling some heat rise to your cheeks at the compliment. Your relationship had been out in the open for weeks now with the others; and you’d been a  _thing_  since the first week of the trip ; and you knew that  Prompto  had liked you all through school (which had almost landed him a punch in the pretty nose when you’d found that out—how dare he make you  _wait_ like that); but...you and your body still weren’t the best of friends, and the wooly leg hair (shaving was a rare commodity these days) and the stretch marks and the cellulite and the stomach rolls were still things you had trouble finding  _gorgeous_. Prompto, on the other hand, was literal perfection; and even after all these weeks, your anxiety garbage brain was still asking  _why_.  

“Wait,” breathes Prompto, pulling you from your reverie. “You’re not gonna fight me on that? I was ready with a whole list of come backs.” 

You shrug as you stand and rub soapy hands between your legs, trying to push the embarrassment away as Prompto watches you wash yourself. Your hands come away bloody and soapy and you stick them under the waterfall. “I’m just still asking myself  _why_ , Prom. That’s all.” 

“Uh, why? Why you? Because you’re literally the most amazing person in the world, that’s why. You’re kind and smart and beautiful, you laugh at my dumb jokes, you can cook, you’re actually  _magic_. You’re one of my best friends in the whole world. I love you. I love cuddling you, holding you. I like playing with your hair and I like kissing you and I like seeing you naked and...”  Prompto bites his lip, emotion spilling out of him before he can rein it in. “Listen,” he speaks again, tone a little more serious. “Okay, so. You're fat. So what? So who the fuck cares? That's never stopped you from doing your job. You guard  _royalty_ , ___________. The size of your jeans has no bearing on your personality, on how smart you are, on how well you can heal or do magic. It’s never stopped you from being a good friend to me or Noct or the others; it never stopped you from being a good daughter or from being great at second-century Lucian poetry.” Prompto pauses as a sly grin spreads across his face. “It certainly doesn’t stop you from fucking the living daylights out of me.” 

“Prompto!” you squeal.  

“Hey, I’m just being honest,” the blond raises his hands up defensively. “That kind of stuff doesn’t matter to me, honest. You could weigh like, a hundred more pounds and I’d still think you were the hottest thing on the planet.” 

 _Gods, how is he even real?_ “It’s just...” you sigh as you dip your head under the waterfall, rinsing the shampoo out. “Sometimes I feel you’d be better matched with someone...skinnier, prettier. Like Cindy.” 

“Cindy’s hot, bro, I’m not gonna lie,” Prompto laughs. “But she’s not you. And just because she’s hot doesn’t negate your own hotness.” He climbs up and sits beside you on the boulder, kissing you deeply before grabbing the biodegradable shampoo and dumping a glob on his own head.  

Before Prompto can even put his hands in his hair, you instinctively reach up and start to massage his scalp. Prompto lets out a long whimper and scoots closer to you, bowing his head so you can scrub harder and touch him more.  

“Feel good, Prom?” You ask. 

“Hell yes,” hisses the blond. “I just love...I just love it when you touch me.” 

“Mmmmmm, well, you’re in luck. Because I love touching you.” 

“You’re perfection,” Prompto whispers as he lifts his hand to run it up and down your thigh, gently bringing it up along your stomach, squeezing softly, and finally settling on your breast. He palms it gently, not even in a hungry way, but with reverence, running his hand all over the heavy flesh as you sigh with contentment and scrub shampoo into his hair.  

 

You make it back to camp, feeling better now that you’ve washed off and have both a pad and tampon between your legs instead of free-bleeding all over the place. Gladio’s torn down the camp, save for you and Prompto’s sleeping bag, which is open; Ignis is bent over it, pouring peroxide over the blood stains.  

“Oh-oh, Ignis, here, let me. It’s my mess, I can clean it up.” You drop your bag and rush over to the kneeled tactician.  

“It’s no trouble,” says Ignis as he hands the bottle to you. “Here, for your pajamas.” 

You take the bottle in silence and dig out your wet, stained clothes that you’d shoved in a plastic bag at the top of your suitcase. Lying out the shorts and underwear, you pour the peroxide on the stains and they bubble; Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto watch in fascination as you rub on the stains with your fingers and the foam turns red. Ignis hands you a bottle of water and you wash the peroxide away, leaving faint outlines of pink instead of saturated, blood-red splotches.  

“Much better,” you say as you ball the clothes back up and bag them.  

“That’s so weird,” says Noctis, crouching beside you.  

“It wouldn’t be weird if  _someone_ had paid attention in chemistry class,” you tease, punching him in the shoulder. 

“Or in health class,” chides Ignis, standing, zipping up the double sleeping bag. “After he got off the phone with Cindy, I had to explain a lot of things to him.” 

“Well sheesh, not my fault for not growing up with a mom or sisters,” Noctis pouts.  

“Bro, hey, it’s fine. I’m sorry that we have to like, stop operations because of me. I mean I knew this was gonna happen eventually, but I’m super early and I wasn’t prepared.” 

“It’s cool,” the prince—king, he’s king now, whether he’s accepted it or not—replies with a wave of his hand.  

“And uh, I mean. Thank you all for being so nice about it. Ah, shit!” You grab at your right lower abdomen—your ovary is in revolt and you double over with pain. Prompto moves quickly to steady you in his arms.  

“Hey, what’s-what’s wrong?” 

“Just...just cramps,” you reply as your hand glows blue, taking the edge off. “I’m fine Prom. Not much anyone can do but wait it out. Speaking of, we ready to go?” 

“Yeah babe, your christened sleeping bag was the last thing to pack,” Gladio teases as he bends to roll up the soiled bag.  

“Quite right,” says Ignis, standing and adjusting his glasses. “Everything in order, then?” 

You and Prompto nod and he slings his arm around you as the five of you head back to the road and the Regalia. Prompto slides into the middle back seat, and Noctis beats Gladio to the other seat—“Back's better for napping,” says Noctis, and he gets what he wants—so the shield is pushed to the front with Iggy, and you’re on the other side of Prompto, the blond looking happier than a chocobo with a mouthful of gysahl greens, surrounded by his best friend and his girlfriend. Your hormones are already getting the best of you—ten minutes into the trip back to Hammerhead and you’re already feeling nauseated and achy, so you unbuckle your seat belt and curl up in the seat, head on Prompto’s lap. Prompto lays one arm over your stomach and pets your hair with the other one, humming softly, even letting a few words slip out into the harmony. It’s no secret that Prompto sings—he sings the chocobo song almost every day, he sings after a victory in battle, he sings about random things like stairs or cactuars or King’s Knight—but it’s kind of a bigger secret that Prompto can actually  _sing_. Like, the boy’s voice doesn’t suck; but most of the goofy ballads he belts out are off-key or croaky on purpose, so no one would actually realize it if they weren’t really listening.  

You don’t know if he’s embarrassed about it or if he really doesn’t think he’s good, but you squeeze the hand that’s draped over your middle in encouragement.  

“Keep singing for me, Prom,” you whisper. “You have such a pretty voice.”  

“Nah,” says Prompto. “Not me.” 

“Please,” you say, tearing up. “It’s been a while since I heard you sing.” 

“He sang the chocobo song  _twice_ yesterday,” groans Gladio from the front seat. “Look honey, I get that you’re all lovey-dovey with Blondie here, but please don’t torture the rest of us.” 

You shoot up in anger. “I’m not talking about that! Prompto can like,  _actually sing,_ if y’all would give him a chance. Assholes.” 

Prompto’s face is beat red at your defensiveness, and he’s not sure what to do as you plop back down on his lap. But when your pained eyes meet his, he pushes down his embarrassment and clears his throat and begins slowly: “ _Wise men say, ‘Only fools rush in,’ but I can’t help falling in love with you...”_  

 

A couple of minutes later, the Prompto finishes singing, and you’re crying with the biggest, dorkiest grin on your face. (Later, Noctis will tell you that his jaw was on the floor of the Regalia. Ignis will deny crying but the man’s usual poker face has a crack in it; Gladio’s strangely silent about the whole thing but he never complains about Prompto singing anything ever again.) 

A few hours pass, and Ignis pulls the Regalia next to the fuel pump at Hammerhead Station. Prompto rouses you from your nap and the two of you get out and gather your bags from the trunk. Prompto carries your things as you head over to the large garage. Cid’s in a lawn chair out front, dozing, and Cindy is on a creeper under a beat-up old jalopy.  

“Ah, the Goddess of the Gears, hard at work,” laughs Prompto as he sets your bags down on the cement.  

Cindy rolls herself out from under the car, wrench in one hand dirty rag in the other. The petite blonde’s face is smeared with sweat and grease and dirt. She’s all teeth though as her gaze lands on you and Prompto; he’s got his arm around you, but you still can’t help but feel pangs of jealousy and want as Cindy gets up.  _Shit, fuck. She’s so skinny and hot. Prompto’s gonna remember how hot she is and decide that he wants to be with her instead..._  

“Glad y’all made it!” she says brightly, clapping Prompto on the shoulder.  

“Of course we did,” Prompto says smoothly—a far cry from the first time he’d interacted with the mechanic.  

Cindy grins at him, then turns to you and steps closer, and puts a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t worry ‘bout a thing, darlin’. You stay here with me, I’ll find work for ya. You take it easy and ride out Aunt Flo’s visit, y’hear?” 

“Aunt...aunt Flo?” asks Prompto. “Who’s...Aunt Flo?” The blond tilts his head in confusion.  

You and Cindy look at each other and burst out laughing, physically grabbing on to each other for purchase. After a minute or two of crying laughter, you finally feel calm enough to turn back to Prompto. You embrace him, cupping his face in your hand as Cindy stands there coming down from the giggle fit.  

“Prom, baby,” you chuckle. “It’s just a euphemism for a period. Flo...y’know, like a girl’s name, or...the  _flow_ of blood. Like, ‘Aunt Flo is back for her monthly visit.’ Mean’s a girl’s on her period.” 

Prompto’s eyes widen in realization and a slight blush spreads across his face. His mouth hangs open slightly as he looks from you to Cindy and back to you. “Girls are something else,” he breathes. “How in the hell do you come up with this stuff?” 

“Y’ain’t never heard the expression?” Cindy says, giggling. “S’all right, Prom, you leave your lady here with me, she’ll be in good hands. We’ll let her rest up till her cycle’s done.” 

You look at Cindy, grateful. “Thank you so much, Cindy.” 

“Yer welcome, sister. Plus it’ll sure be nice to have another girl ‘round these parts. Kinda forget what the company's like.” 

You blush as you smile at the mechanic. Cindy...wanted you around? It was something you weren’t expecting, but you were actually starting to feel kind of excited to hang around with Cindy for a few days. Sure, you’d miss the guys, and Prompto; but you knew deep down that they would be able to handle themselves. “Uh, so, I’ll be staying in the caravan, I reckon?”  _Gods, two seconds back in_ _Leide_ _and my accent comes back in full force._   

Prompto giggles. “Your accent came back!” 

Cindy smiles at you. “Pegged you for a fellow southerner, guess I was right. Y’all didn’t talk much the first time you came around, didn't much notice it. And nah darlin’, you can stay with me in my room at the house. Pawpaw won’t mind a bit, and neither will I. Bed’s more than plenty enough for the two of us. I got a tub with your name on it where you can soak your troubles away.” 

“Ugh, you really are a goddess. Thank you, Cindy.” 

“My pleasure. Go’on and get Pawpaw to take you to the house to drop off yer things, then once yer settled you can come back out here and I’ll tell ya what you can help me with.” 

You nod and Prompto picks your backs back up, and you walk outside to find the guys talking to Cid.  

“Hey buddy,” you say, approaching Noctis. “Y’all really gonna be okay without me?” 

“We’ll miss you, that’s for sure,” says Noct seriously. “But you need rest right now.” 

“However,” chimes Ignis. “You won’t be rid of us so soon. We’ve booked the caravan for the evening. We’ll pack up for camp in the morning and take local hunts around the area until you’re feeling well enough to continue.” 

“Oh, Iggy—guys, y’all don’t have to do that. You can go somewhere else if you need to—go look for more royal tombs, I mean, that’s super important...” 

“You’re also important,” says Noctis, smiling. “We would’ve been dead in that last dungeon if it wouldn’t have been for you. The royal arms can wait until I have my medic back.” 

“Besides,” blushes Prompto as he swings your bags back and forth. “I don’t like the idea of not seeing you at  _all_ for four days. At least this way we’ll be camping close by, and we’ll see you when we come to collect the bounties on hunts.” 

You’re flustered and overwhelmed by the guys’ support. You hug all of them before turning to Cid. “Hi Cid, uh, Cindy said I could stay with her?” 

“S’all right with me, little lady. I know you’ll earn yer keep ‘round here. Don’t mind an old man.” Cid grunts a little as he rises from his chair. “Follow me and I’ll show you where you can put your bags.” 

 

Later that night, after dinner at Takka’s with the guys and a few odd jobs around the garage, the guys retire to the caravan—not before about a hundred good night kisses from Prompto—and you follow Cindy to the modest little house in the back of the station.  

“I know it’s late, _________, but is there anything ya wanted to do? We could watch a movie? I reckon it’s also about time to repaint my toenails, besides,” Cindy sighs, scuffing her white heeled boots as she walks to the house and puts the key in the lock.  

“Oh, man, I don’t know if I’m up for a movie, but...but painting our nails sounds nice. I haven’t had the opportunity to do that in a long time. And...well I’ve never had another sleepover with a girlfriend before.” 

Cindy pauses as she opens the front door, turning her head to look at you in surprise. “Y’ain’t never had a sleepover? With a girlfriend?” 

You shrug. “Kinda sad I guess, but girls didn’t really like me in school. It was always me, Prompto, and Noct.” 

“Like peas in a pod, y’all three,” laughs Cindy as she ushers you in.  

The house is small and modest, but clean; its decorated with pictures of Cindy growing up—and even more with Cid standing next to customers with fancy cars, and several with...with Cid and  _Regis_. Wow. The reality of just what Noctis means to not only the world, but to this one old mechanic who used to be friends with his father...suddenly your heart aches for the old man.  

“Couple’a spring chickens back then, huh?” Cindy asks as she comes up next to you to look at the picture on the wall. “Pawpaw used to talk about ‘Reggie’ all the time. Took me a few years to figure out who he was really talkin’ about. Sad they went all these years without seeing each other...” 

“And now they won’t get to,” you sigh. “Shame.” 

“Well, I reckon Pawpaw’s made his peace with it. Your pal’s the only tie he’s got left to his friend, and that car. Y’all better treat her good.” 

“Oh, we do. Prompto only drove it twice,” you laugh, thinking back to the disasters.  

Cindy leads you away from the living room wall and down the hallway to her bedroom. It’s large, with a king bed; posters of cars and a few music groups litter the walls, along with some more elegant pieces of abstract art; a few bookshelves and a standing wardrobe are on one wall, a desk and a lamp and an office chair are on the other; and a tv with a modest shelf of movies beside it is in front of the large bed. The door to the bathroom is open, and you see your suitcases set neatly beside the entryway.  

“If you’ll let me rinse off the grease real quick, ___________, you can soak in the tub for however long you want,” Cindy says as she starts to take off her hat and jacket. “I won’t keep ya, I know yer hurtin’.” 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Thanks Cindy, again. For everything. I hope I’m not a bother.” 

“Gods no, sweetheart, it’ll be nice to have the company. Be nice to have another girl to talk to.” 

“Hey...hey Cindy. We can be friends, right?” 

“Of course!” the other woman chirps brightly. She’s undressing in front of the clothes hamper that’s next to the wardrobe. The hat and jacket are gone, and she’s peeling off her boots and thigh-highs. Her utility belt is back at the garage, on her work bench. She’s several inches shorter, without the heels; and then the shorts drop, and Cindy is just left in a coral-colored thong and bra. She turns to you, barely blushing. “Ya don’t mind, do ya?” 

“Oh, uh, no, of course not. We all have the same stuff, right?” 

Cindy laughs, “Sure,” and removes the last of her clothing before she’s crossing the room to the bathroom, completely naked.  

 _Okay._ This was definitely something you were going to have to brag to Gladio about. And while you’d never quite said it outright, you’d honestly looked at other women before. You thought you might be somewhere in the realm of bisexual but you were still figuring it out, and your clear-cut relationship with Prompto had left you little room to explore this fact. Oh well. Maybe after the war was over, you and Prompto could talk things over... 

Cindy barely takes twenty minutes in the bathroom before she’s coming out in loose flannel pants and a baggy t-shirt—and honestly, she’s even cuter with wet curly hair and clothes two sizes too big. She flops on the bed with a rag and a bottle of nail polish. “All yours, darlin’.” 

You take your clothes bag and your toiletry bag into the bathroom and strip, and it doesn’t take you long to figure out the shower. You’re under a scalding stream of water in minutes, and you audibly groan at the satisfaction. Gods, camping sucks so much. You wash your hair again and use the body wash that you save for when Ignis splurges on a hotel room. And by the Astrals, you shave down every spare hair on your body that you can find. You stay under the water until the stream begins to run cold. Pulling back the curtain, you notice that Cindy has left some towels on the toilet for you.  

After you’re dressed and freshly padded, you walk back out to the bedroom. Cindy’s got some soft instrumental music playing on her phone, and she’s finishing up her pinky toenail on her small, perfect feet. She looks up and smiles. “You look better already, sugar. Want me to do your nails for ya?” 

You blush in spite of yourself. “Uh, sure, that’d be great, Cindy.” 

The blonde giggles. “Sure thing, girly. Climb up here.” 

You climb up onto the bed and sit cross-legged in front of Cindy as she carefully scoots over, and grabs your right hand. She works in silence for a few minutes, until:  

“So, you and Prompto, huh?” 

Your blush deepens. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. We’re together.” 

Cindy looks up and you and grins. “I’m glad, darlin’. He’s got a good heart, and cute to boot. You shouldn’t lose that one.” 

“I don’t plan on it.” 

“How’d y’all meet?” 

“We met on the first day of high school. It was an instant crush for me.” You chuckle.  

“Hot dang, you’ve liked him all these years? He feel the same?” 

“I didn’t know it at the time, but both he and Noct have said that he started to realize he loved me when he was seventeen. He thought I was so out of league that he didn’t say anything. Funny thing, I thought the same thing about him. I thought that someone like him...who looked like him...would never want someone like me.” 

Cindy finishes your pinky finger and lets your hand go, blinking up at you with her soft green eyes. “Why in the world would you ever think somethin’ like that?” 

“Oh, Cindy, y’know. I’m...I mean I look how I look. And Prompto is...Prompto. And well...I just figure that girls who look like me aren’t...aren’t attractive.” 

“Oh, honey,” Cindy drawls, suddenly kind of sad. “You shouldn’t think like that. I got friends of all shapes and sizes and they’re all worth their weight in gold, if ya ask me. It’s what’s on the inside that counts.” 

“Yeah well, you say that. Society isn’t always nice to people like me. I go most of my days thinking I’m not worthy or pretty enough to deserve anything.” 

Cindy pouts as she finishes up your last nail on the other hand. The nail polish is a pale yellow, and when you tilt your hands, there’s a faint iridescent sheen that glints across them. The color reminds you of Prompto’s hair. She closes the bottle and puts it and the rag on her bedside table, then shuffles back over to you.  

“You’re plenty pretty enough to me,” says Cindy with conviction. “You and Prompto make a cute couple. If I’m bein’ honest with ya, I didn’t miss the way he was looking at me when y’all first showed up. But then I saw how  _you_  were lookin’ at him, and I didn’t say anything. Was gonna give him a chance, at least dinner at the diner. But girl code, y’know? Ya don’t look at someone who’s just a friend like  _that_.” 

“Unbelievable. I was that obvious, huh?” 

Cindy giggles as you move up to closer to the headboard to recline on the pillows.  

“Thanks for not making a move. I finally confessed a few days later after we first dropped off the car, and well, the rest is history.” 

“I’m glad y’all got it sorted out.” 

“I was pretty intimidated by you at first, I won’t lie. You’re so skinny and pretty, Cindy, and part of me just thinks that guys like Prompto are better off with girls like you.” 

“Prompto seems pretty content with you just the way you are, judgin’ by how he was holding ya earlier in the garage,” Cindy winks. “Plus, bein’ me isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be. I get a lot of attention, and not all of it’s nice, if ya know what I mean.” 

You nod. “I could see that. I’m sorry that happens.” 

Cindy shrugs. “Pretty used to it by now. But sometimes people just see a pretty face and nothing else, and it’s hard, y’know. Sure I’m a good mechanic—a great mechanic, I’d wager to bet, but I’m a person with a wide range of interests. I got feelings too, y’know, and it’s like, just ‘cause I dress how I do doesn’t mean I’m easy or askin’ for it all the time. I ain’t had an easy life, what with my parents being gone so early, and I try to stay positive and strong. That’s why I throw myself into my work. We all have our thorns, sweetheart.” 

You flush with anger a little at Cindy’s confession of less-than-kind interactions with some of the guys that frequent the garage. You wonder if any will show up while you’re around. You hope so. “I promise I’ll fry the next asshole that makes you feel uncomfortable, Cindy.” 

The blonde laughs as she deems her toes dry enough to scoot under the covers. “I ‘preciate it, honey, but you don’t have to. I’m pretty good at handlin’ them. But I ain’t stopping you, either.” She winks again. “And hey. Goin’ back to yer self-esteem problem... I been with both men and women. And y’know, most of the time I prefer girls who look like you. Y’all are so cute and round and soft, like the Michelin man.” 

“Did you just compare me to a tire mascot?” 

Cindy giggles. “Sorry, those kinda analogies just come out sometimes.” 

You laugh and smile, gently tapping on your nails to make sure they’re dry. You scoot under the covers, sighing in relief at the soft bed and pillows. Cindy points a remote at the fan and the overhead light goes off, leaving you to slip away into dreams in the warm dark.  

 

Even though you wake up the next morning to an empty bed, you get up and do your morning routine, pleased that even though you’ve bled on your pajamas again, you didn’t get any on Cindy’s pretty floral sheets. You figure you’ll grab a quick bite at the diner with some of the gil you have stashed away for yourself. You’re dressed in sneakers, shorts, and a loose tank top; and after taking some pain medicine and downing a potion to keep the edge off the cramps, you leave Cid and Cindy’s house and head for the station. The boys are already in the diner, asking about local hunts.  

You’ve barely stepped in the place, ringing the bell, when Prompto is practically tackling you, nuzzling into your neck like he hasn’t see you in weeks.  

“Easy tiger,” you say, laughing. You hug him back tightly and kiss the crook of his neck. “Did y’all sleep okay?” 

“Quite well,” replies Ignis as he looks over the modest breakfast menu.  

“Horrible,” replies Prompto, voice muffled. “You were gone.” 

“I missed you too, Prom. But Cindy’s bed is super comfy, I won’t lie.”  

Gladio grunts. “Hmph. Ain’t fair that out of all of us, you get to sleep in the same bed as her.” 

You look at him and wink. “Oh yeah, big guy, I also saw her naked.” 

The shield flares his nostrils and turns red, immediately looking over Ignis’ shoulder to pick out his breakfast.  

Noctis laughs and comes up behind you to pull you away from Prompto. “Hey, my turn.” 

“Oh, a hug from the king! I’m so blessed,” you laugh as Prompto reluctantly lets you go. You embrace Noctis quickly but firmly, and his eyes are soft and pleading as he pulls away from you.  

“We really did miss just having you around, you know,” he says quietly. “It felt...weird.” 

“ _Super_ weird,” says Prompto, kissing you on the cheek, then on the jaw, then on the mouth. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“I’m a little better, but not much. Trying to figure out what to eat that won’t make me puke.” 

The five of you eat breakfast, you opting for a burger topped with a fried egg and fries, and then the boys accept a few quests and roll out into the wilderness. You head over to the garage to find Cindy under the old car she was working on the day before.  

“Hey Cindy, I’m here. What I can do for you?” 

“Mornin’ sunshine! Saw your pals off, did ya?” 

“Yeah, they’re off on some hunts. Just left.” 

“Prom missed ya somethin’ fierce. Was over here as soon as he saw me up, askin’ about you.”  

“He was?” 

“Well sure,” Cindy says as she glides out from under the car. “Hey, can you hand me that flashlight over yonder?” 

You find the big LED flashlight on Cindy’s workbench and hand it to her.  

“Lemme just adjust this right here--” she rolls back under the car, then out again a minute later. “And I think that’s that on  _that._ ” She gets up and slides the flashlight into an empty holster in her belt and walks over to a pile of boxes, four deep and four tall. “See, here are some new supplies we’ve ordered. Think you can open ‘em all up and put them away?" Cindy points to the large red mobile tool station. "Drawers here are labeled, but if it ain’t, just put it to the side and we’ll figure out a spot for it later.” 

“I think I can do that,” you say with a smile.  

Cindy hands you a box cutter and you get to work.  

 

The day passes quickly—Cindy brings over lunch from the diner for the two of you in the middle of the afternoon—but it’s nearing seven o’clock at night as Cindy’s finishing her third car of the day and you’re opening the second-to-last of the boxes.  

The blonde slams the hood of the sports car down and shoves her rag in her back pocket and stretches. You’re tearing into yet  _another_ large plastic bag of wheel bearings as Cindy approaches.  

“Wow sister, this would’ve taken me an’ Pawpaw days to finish—and these boxes have already been here for about a week. Think work like this deserves about two thousand gil, whaddaya say?” 

“Oh gosh, that much? Cindy I couldn’t possibly accept that. You’re already giving me room and board this week. I didn’t even do any heavy lifting; I’ve just sat all day.” 

“Now don’t fight me on this, y’hear? An honest day’s pay for an honest day’s work. You’ve freed up my schedule a lot—now I can concentrate on getting these cars looked and not have to worry about unpacking all these parts. Time equals money, sugar, and yer savin’ me and Pawpaw some time. Now c’mon, day’s done. Let’s go relax.” 

You put down the bag of parts and smile. “Hey Cindy, I was thinking...can I cook for you and Cid?” 

“Wow, you’re serious? Sure thing, then, if that’s what you fancy. You wanna check and see if your boys are back to collect their bounty?” 

You follow Cindy out of the garage—the Regalia’s not there, so you bring up Prompto’s contact on your phone and hit  _call_.  

He picks up after about five rings, voice breathless and high-pitched. “Hell-hello? __________?” 

“Prompto! Are you okay?” 

Prompto squeals—then there’s about ten seconds of silence, then static, then he’s back. “Yeah, I’m here, sorry. We’re good. That pack of Bloodhorns caught us by surprise.” 

“I wish I could be there.” 

“Trust me babe, me too. Are you all right?” 

You hear the quiver in his voice. “I’m fine, normal cramps and bloating, but I’m okay. Christened another set of pajamas and underwear, though.” 

Prompto chuckles. “What did you do today?” 

“I unpacked about fifteen boxes worth of auto parts for Cindy. She paid me two thousand gil.” 

“Whoa, holy shit! That’s awesome. Stash that away for a rainy day. I’ll be sure to tell Specs.” 

You hear the adviser ask “Tell me what” in the background and you giggle. You really do miss your boys. “Will y’all come back to the station tonight?” 

“I don’t think so,” Prompto says dejectedly. “Gladio’s already setting up camp. Hopefully we’ll be back sometime tomorrow to cash in the bounty.” 

You sigh. “Okay. Y’all be careful. Please call me if you really need me.” 

“Yeah.” Prompto yawns. “I love you a lot, _________.” 

“I love you too, Prompto. So much. Good night.” You hang up the phone, disappointed, but relieved that everyone seemed to be alright despite the Bloodhorn ambush. You follow Cindy to her house and turn in early after soaking in a hot bath.  

 

The next day, you wake up and you can barely move for feeling so sick. Groaning with pain, you reach for your phone and shoot Cindy a text message. Ten minutes later, the greasy blonde is walking into her bedroom, kneeling by your bedside.  

“Ain’t up to it today?” Cindy asks, placing a warm hand on your head.  

You sniff and shake your head. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “You can—you can take back some of what you paid me yesterday—I don’t want to be a leech...” 

“Oh hush darlin’, I ain’t doing nothin’ of the sort. Tell ya what. If you get to feelin’ better, why don’t you just do some housework today? Whatever needs done ‘round here. Dishes, laundry, I know Pawpaw’s room could use a good vacuuming. You stay in today and I’ll let your boys know you’re back here, when they get back from huntin’. I know you miss ‘em. You don’t fret. There’s food in the fridge so help yourself when yer hungry—or go to Takka if you’re up for it. Sound good?” 

You nod your head weakly; Cindy pats you and then goes back out to the garage. You fall back asleep for several hours after pulling a potion from the stash in the Armiger.  

You wake up some time later—checking you phone, you already see it’s one o’clock in the afternoon. You’re feeling mostly better, so you get up and shower and change pads, then set about doing housework for Cindy and Cid. You do three loads of laundry, stripping both Cindy’s bed and Cid’s, and washing whatever clothes were in the hampers in their rooms, including your own; there’s leftover diner food in the fridge that you reheat. You do the dishes, mop the kitchen floor and wipe down the counters. You clean both Cid’s and Cindy’s bathroom, put fresh sheets on both of their beds, and vacuum the whole house. Hours have passed, and you’re bagging up the two garbage bags and bringing them outside, when you almost collide with Ignis on your path to the dumpsters on the side of the garage.  

“Oh--fuck, Iggy! Where did you come from?” 

“Well, you see, I was born in Tenebrae, and then when I was six...” 

“Oh, _now_ you’re being funny.” You stick out your tongue at the adviser as he takes a heavy garbage bag from you.  

“I have been known to make a joke from time to time.” 

“Is everyone okay? Where are the others?” 

“In the diner, collecting our bounty and seeing what else is on the hunting agenda.” Ignis tosses the bag into the dumpster with grace. “Cindy said you’ve been a little housemaid today. Too sick to work in the shop?” 

“Definitely. And in this heat...no thanks dude.” You toss your own garbage bag in. “Oh, and hey, Iggy. Uh, I kinda have a favor?” 

“What is it darling?” 

“I’m running low on pads. Do you think maybe you can detour to the other gas station down the road and get some? I can text Prompto with the kind I need.” 

“I think we can make that trip. Anything else?” Ignis looks at you and smiles warmly.   

“Nope. C’mon. I want to eat dinner with y’all.” You hook your arm under Iggy’s arm and he escorts you to Takka’s.  

 

The third day you’re feeling infinitely better, and your flow has slowed down substantially. You’re back in the shop with Cindy. It’s a slow day, so you’ve mostly been cleaning and doing some more organizing; and Cid has even showed you how to do inventory and run a job through their computer system; when there’s a honk outside.  

“What in tarnation,” says Cid, turning from the computer. “I tell ya little lady, ain’t no one around with manners any more. Ya mind goin’ with Cindy to see what the hullabaloo’s about?” 

“Sure thing.” You hop up and jog after the mechanic.  

She’s standing in the midst of three guys that make Gladio look like a three-week-old kitten. They’re gesturing and almost screaming as they point to their huge truck, which is kind of smoking under the hood—you're no mechanic but you know that means bad news. Cindy’s just standing there, hands on her hips, head cocked to the side, and even though you can’t see her face, you know she’s looking at the men like they’re utter buffoons.  

“Listen, bitch, I know my truck. You’re the last one who’s worked on it. I want you to fix whatever the hell you did wrong, and I want a full refund!” The tallest and heaviest of the three jabs a big fat finger into Cindy’s bare chest, and you immediately lose control.  

“Hey!” You shout, hands ablaze with fire spells. “You can complain all you want, buddy, but  _do not_ touch her.” You’re gritting your teeth, magic sparking the air around you, just like it does around Noctis. Cindy’s head whips around and she takes a step back.  

“Fuckin’ Astrals,” she curses.  

“What are you gonna do about it, you fat lard? You can’t defend your girlfriend here, she’s in the wrong! I came here to replace my fuel injector last week and now look at it!” The fat man roars, pointing to his truck, which is still smoking.  

“I don’t  _care_! You keep your filthy hands off her.” 

“_________, darlin, it’s all right, I ain’t hurt. Let me just get under the hood and see what’s wrong...” 

“No Cindy. It’s not right. I’m gonna teach this scumbag a lesson.” 

“Bring it on, tubby.”  

“Look who’s talking!” You scream as you hurl a fireball at the man and his two companions. Within seconds, they’re screaming across the parking lot the garage, patting each other, trying to douse the flames.  

You’re panting hard and seeing red, emotions raging, hormones only adding fuel to the fire in your hands. You’re crying with anger as you let the magic dissipate, and Cindy wraps her arms around you and hugs you hard.  

“Didn’t know I’d need rescuin’ today. Thanks sugar.” 

You cry softly into Cindy’s shoulder as she hugs you. “I  _won’t_ let anyone hurt you, Cindy. Not while I’m around.” 

The petite blonde draws back and smiles, then plants a soft, open-mouthed kiss on your lips. “You’re one hell of a woman.”  

You’re blushing as Cindy turns and looks at the offending truck. She sighs. “Guess I better take a looksie to see what they’re fussin’ about.”  

It turns out that the man had seen another mechanic after he’d seen Cindy—the blonde could tell by the brand of parts she took off of his truck—“We only use AUS Reman fuel injectors here, they’re manufactured in Lestallum. This here’s a GP Sorenson, come out of Niflheim, if you can believe it. Ain’t my fault you got someone else to redo what I did, and how dare you come and try to swindle me outta my hard-earned gil and ruin my reputation! Tryin’ to pull the wool over my eyes ‘cause I’m a woman? Don’t think I know what kinda parts I put in folks’ cars? Get outta here, I don’t ever wanna see you in my shop again!” Cindy had yelled at the man and his companions, as you stood there, magic in hand again, daring him to argue. The fat man and his buddies had putt-putted down the road in their smoking truck, proverbial tail between their legs. Cindy gives you another two thousand gil and several scrap parts that Noctis could use to upgrade his sword with.  

The boys return very late in the evening, almost at ten o’clock, but you’re on a stool in the diner, and Takka won’t pack up the kitchen until after he’s given them their reward. You hear the door chime and the boys walk in, tired, but happy; Gladio’s got his arm around Iggy, and the strategist is slightly flushed, but he’s smiling and laughing—it's so nice to see him let go, you think. Prompto and Noctis are practically supporting each other and helping the other walk—they're covered in dirt and grease and Noct’s shirt is ripped in a thousand little places, and it kind of looks like Prompto has a broken nose, but they’re giggling about something stupid and you know you’ve never seen them look more beautiful. You’re off the barstool in minutes as you’re flinging your arms and crashing into the two of them. You immediately concentrate, whisper to the gods—and then your whole body is glowing blue, surrounding both you and Prompto and Noctis, and you hear the boys groan loudly in relief. You feel two more figures surround you from the back—Gladio and Ignis—and suddenly you’re being crushed by your friends as you let the magic flow out of you and restore them. Even when the magic subsides, they stay like that for several more minutes.  

Ignis wiggles out of the hug first, but you feel his gloved hand on your shoulder. “My thanks, ________,” he says as he steps back and clears his throat. “That last Iron Giant was particularly rough.” 

Gladio gives you a final squeeze and steps back. “Man I feel like going out again. Thanks sweetheart. We’ve missed that. Potions just ain’t the same.” 

Noct steps back; Prompto moves around to your full front and buries himself in the crook of your neck. You blink up at your king—his shirt’s still torn, but the weariness and the fatigue is gone. He smiles at you, blue eyes beaming in the dingy light of the diner. Gods, he’s so handsome.  

“Feel better, Noct?” 

“Hell yeah,” the king breathes. “Thanks dude.” 

“Is my nose still broken?” asks Prompto, muffled voice tickling the crook of your neck.  

“Stand up and let me see, baby,” you say softly.  

“__________,” says Ignis. “Your feminine products are in the Regalia.” 

“Oh, I’ll get them! Thanks Iggy.”  

Prompto reluctantly stands upright, face still flushed from the adrenaline, tears in his eyes from the pain. His nose is straight again, but it’s swollen. You press a tender kiss to it, letting some of your ice magic come to your lips to ease the swelling on the bridge; and you wipe a smudge of gunpowder from under his eye. His freckles are dark from the day’s sun exposure, and his lips are slightly chapped, and there’s a faint sheen of sweat on his neck that’s pooling down to his collarbones— _his collarbones should be illegal, gods_ —and his heart is beating fast, blue eyes wide and pupils severely dilated.  

Gods. The way he’s looking at you...like he’s so, so hungry and he hasn’t been fed in days. It makes you shiver involuntarily. You tune out the others—you can hear Takka paying Noctis and giving him the details of another hunt, Ignis taking the keys to the caravan since it’s so late, Gladio asking for a quick glass of cold milk, but you’re not really paying attention; how can you when the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen is looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world? 

He whispers, “Is your period over?” 

“I’m...it’s on the downward spiral, but it’d still probably be too messy to do anything. I should be good to be back with y’all tomorrow.” You rub your hands up and down his arms, right hand catching on his bandanna and shifting it a bit.  

Prompto bites his lip and sighs. “I’ve...I’ve missed you so much. Y’know, not only sex, but just...having you around.” 

You giggle and subtly graze the front of his dirty jeans and revel in the way his nostrils flare and his breath hitches. “I miss you too, Prom. But it’s been really fun to hang out with Cindy.” You think back to the incident earlier. “Oh shit. Guys.” 

Everyone’s attention turns to you and you look down. “I kind of, um. I set some people on fire.” 

“What?” Ignis is giving you his signature  _look._  

Gladio chuckles. “I’m sure they deserved it.” 

“What happened?” asks Noctis. 

“So some big guys tried to swindle Cindy, said that she messed up on fixing their truck. Turns out they’d gotten another mechanic to place a faulty part in there so that it would mess up on purpose, then they came back and tried to get her to re-fix it for free and get a refund. They...one of them put his hands on her and I just. I lost it. I’m sorry. Not very becoming of a Crownsguard, and you know I’m super emotional right now, but...I couldn’t help it. He  _touched_ her. And I wasn’t just about to stand by and let that slide. Not with her.” You shake your head and look back up to the guys, to Noctis. The young king grins at you.  

“Hey, I’m not mad,” he says coolly.  

“A knight in shining armor,” laughs Ignis. “I’m sure our friend appreciated your defense.” 

“She reward you for that?” asks Gladio as he crosses his arms and lifts an eyebrow.  

“I, uh....uh...” You feel the heat rising to your cheeks and turn to Prompto, panicked; but he’s still gazing at you with a soft, loving expression. “Prom, okay, it was...it didn’t mean anything, I didn’t even kiss her back, it was just like, a peck on the lips in the heat of the moment and...” 

Prompto reels back, stunned. “She  _kissed_ you?” 

You put your head in your hands. “I’m so sorry. It...I didn’t expect it...” 

Gladio makes a kind of pained noise.  

Noctis giggles. “Damn, we can’t leave you anywhere. And I thought Gladio was bad! Sleeping in the same bed, kissing...” 

You blush even harder at Noct’s observations and you feel a warm hand on your shoulder. You look up at Prompto, teary-eyed—only he’s not angry. His eyes are tired and soft and he gives you a small smile.  

“I’m not angry,” says Prompto. “I mean...it didn’t mean anything, right?” 

You shake your head furiously. “I mean, like I said, it’s not like I kissed back...it was just...” you snap your fingers, “like that, y’know? And then she called me one hell of a woman and then I went back to work.” 

Prompto laughs big and loud. “I’m not mad, I promise. I’m glad you were there to help her.” He blushes and looks down.  

You grin slyly. “You jealous, Prompto?” 

He squeaks and flails his hands defensively. “I am not jealous!” 

“Uh huh.” You grab his hand and pull him down into a heated kiss, only stopping when Noctis starts making fake puking noises.  

 

By the fourth morning, the flow between your legs has slowed to a slow trickle. You get up and shower, throw the last load of your laundry into Cindy’s washing machine, eat some leftovers in the fridge, and head out to the garage. Cindy’s talking with a family that’s obviously just pulled in, so you wait until she’s popped on the minivan’s hood to go over and speak with her.  

“Hey Cindy. Did the guys leave on the hunt already?” 

The mechanic leans up from the engine. “Yeah darlin’, they’re out and about. You feelin’ better?” She smiles at you.  

“Yeah I’m great. It’s on its downward spiral. I, uh, ate some leftovers in the fridge and I’m taking advantage of your washer and dryer again.” 

Cindy laughs. “I understand. Small comforts you take for granted ain’t easy to find out here in the wilds.” 

“Especially with Gladio’s camping kick. I love the guy, but I am not fond of sleeping on the ground. I might have extra cushion, y’know, but...doesn’t mean the ground feels like a mattress.”  

Cindy giggles, then her face softens a little. “Look honey, hope I wasn’t too forward yesterday when you gave those goons the what-for.” She blushes slightly, and it’s so cute that your heart clenches. “Promise I ain’t tryna steal you out from under Prompto’s cute little nose.” 

“He  _does_ have such a cute nose,” you agree as you smile back at her. “It’s okay Cindy. He wasn’t upset, and neither am I. I was happy I was around to back you up.” 

“Don’t know what came over me,” the mechanic sighs. “Just heat of the moment, I guess. Yer not freaked out?” 

You shake your head. “It takes a lot more than that to scare me away.” You pull the petite blond into a hug, and when she steps back, you ask, “What can I help you with today?” 

“Pawpaw’s feelin’ under the weather; he ain’t left the bed. Think you can keep track of the sales in the computer like he showed ya?” 

You nod. “I think I can do that.”  

 

It’s dinnertime when Cindy finishes up with her last car of the day, and you punch in the parts and labor into the spreadsheet program and take the printed receipt over to Cindy.  

“Cindy, here’s the invoice for this last car you’ve done.” 

“Thanks sugar. He’s over at the diner; can ya run it over to him? Tell him to pay you, if ya don’t mind, and tell him I’ll run his car over to the fuel pump and fill ‘er up for him.”  

“Roger that!” Cindy high-fives you as you skip out of the garage.  

The diner is full and Takka and another assistant are calling out orders and slinging out drinks like you’ve never seen before, but you call out the customer’s name and he rises from the bar and pays you, and you walk back outside just in time to see Cindy pulling his car to the gas pump, and Noctis pulling the Regalia into the diner’s lot at the same time. The car hasn’t even stopped moving yet before Prompto is slinging his lean form up over the side and bolting over to you, squeezing you and picking you up and twirling you around. The action leaves you breathless in more ways than one.  

“Hey Prom!” You laugh as he sets you down and plants a hot kiss on your mouth. “Mmmmmm, didja miss me?” 

“I’ve missed you all week,” the blond whines.  

“Hunt go okay?” 

“Yep!”  

He’s all dirty again and his former-broken nose is still swollen, but his blue eyes are glittering and his grin is all teeth and his freckles are dark and it’s all you can do to restrain yourself from taking him right there in the parking lot.  

Cindy saunters over to the both of you and claps a gloved hand on Prompto’s shoulder. “Yer little lady’s been a great help to me an’ Pawpaw this week, Prompto. Thank you for trusting us with her.” 

You laugh. “You act as though I’m some breakable object.” 

Prompto smiles and takes Cindy’s hands in his own. “It wasn’t easy being without her, but I’m glad she got to be with you and get the rest that she needed. Thank you for taking care of her, Cindy.”  

Cindy grins. “Oh she did her fair share of takin’ care of me, too. Shoulda seen her run off the goons what tried to pull a fast one on me. I can see why his Highness has her as a Crownsguard.” 

Your face is hot as you stand there kind of awkwardly. Noctis comes up and puts his arm around you, yawning.  

“Who died and made you the driver?” You tease, elbowing Noct in the ribs and grateful for the distraction.  

“Hey, it’s  _my_ car. Can drive it if I want,” Noctis shrugs. “You ready to go? There’s still some daylight left, we can make it to the haven?” 

“Man, y’all are really trying to drag me back out there, huh? But Cindy’s bed is sooooo comfortable,” you whine as you start to hang on him.  

“Aw, no fair,” says Prompto as he drops Cindy’s hand and pulls you off of Noctis and into his arms. “More comfortable than cuddling with me on the cold, hard ground?” 

“Ugh, I’d rather cuddle with you in a bed, Prom.” 

Noctis makes the fake puking noises again and gags. “Are you two done?” 

Cindy laughs. “Come on, darlin’. I’ll help you get yer bags from the house. And you just keep that last payment as your day’s wages, y’hear?”  

You smile up at Prompto as the two of you follow Cindy back to her house to get your luggage. It’s been a nice break, and you’re glad that you and Cindy have gotten closer—but you’re ready to be back on the road with your friends...even if you’re sick of camping.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what I'm doing here, I'm so sorry; but thanks for your continued support of this crazy project.


	10. Magic Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio gives you a shoulder rub one afternoon, and Prompto can't handle it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits to Momomei for the idea! I hope this is something along the lines of what you wanted, dude. I tried. It was fun to write so I hope I did it justice.

It’s three weeks after graduation and it’s hot as shit in the Crown City. The five of them miraculously have the day off all at once and they’re taking advantage of it, just lounging around Noct’s apartment with the air down as low as it can go. _________ and Noctis are providing entertainment because they keep making it snow with ice magic and Prompto is transfixed on ____________ like she’s Santa Claus. ___________ is transfixed on Prompto—and, honestly, all four of them—because everyone has their shirts off except for Ignis, who’s let his hair down (figuratively and literally) enough to warrant wearing a thin white T-shirt and black gym shorts—but that’s not what he arrived in, his dress slacks and a button-up are folded up on the dresser in Noct’s spare bedroom, but he’s not even wearing shoes and everyone is wondering how Ignis’ feet are still perfect, like the rest of him. ____________ is used to seeing Gladio without a shirt like, 95% of the time because of Crownsguard sparring, but that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t look. Ignis is downright pretty in _everything_ , and aside from the seeing him in training sweats at the Citadel, this is the least amount of clothing she’s ever seen on him, so she’s taking advantage of it—fuck, the man is all legs and she’s pretty sure she’s being super obvious about stealing glances at his bare calves. She’s occasionally seen Noctis sans shirt—also training...she really should be more used to this but she’s not—but Noct has more muscle than one would think he’d have under the graphic t-shirts and his, until recently, school uniform, and the prince has always been easy on the eyes. __________ is hoping the constant blush she’s had since she walked into what was practically a domestic Chippendale act is easily explained away by the heat, but no one’s called her out on it and she’s grateful. She and Ignis keep exchanging looks because he just _knows,_ goddammit—she's the closest to him outside of her two peers and shit, she’s told Ignis things that she hasn’t even told the other two. She thinks they’re all fucking gorgeous and she’s sitting there feeling like a lumpy sack of potatoes. The gods have a cruel sense of humor.  

She’s seen Prompto shirtless in person before, duh—the day at the junkyard a couple of months ago, the awkward full-body nude she’d gotten an eyeful of junior year, a few other times the weather had been super hot and Prompto hadn’t had any decency, and at their senior trip to Galdin Quay when he’d managed to make chocobo-print swim trunks look appetizing—but she’s never ever prepared for it and each time is like the first, it punches her in the gut and takes her breath away. When Noctis had opened the door—shirtless of course—Prompto had bounded up behind him and pressed himself up against the prince’s back, all red-faced and sweaty, freckles somehow standing out even more even under the full-body flush he’d had going on, hair damp but blue eyes bright and grin as wide as the whole Kingdom of Lucis, welcoming her to the day off hangout. It’d taken everything to drag her gaze up to Noctis’ face, where he was wearing a small smirk—asshole—and saying, “Hey, glad you could make it.” She’d nodded dumbly, handed him the bag of ice and pack of sparking water in her hand, and closed the door without a word.  

She’d warmed up—ha—pretty quickly though, after her initial shock of seeing the guys in various states of undress all in one place. She was about as undressed as she was about to get, herself—hair in a high ponytail; short shorts; flip-flops; a lace bralette, because fuck underwire for boobs her size in this heat; and a tank top that was actually a men’s, so it was cut low on the sides, kind of giving a peekaboo vibe to the black bra if and when she lifted or moved her arms. (And if she noticed Prompto asking her to do just that at every viable opportunity, she didn’t say anything.) 

Ignis is standing over the industrial standing mixer on the kitchen bar, trying his hand at homemade ice-cream. Gladio’s taking up one-third of the couch, one arm spread across the back, airing out his underarm on one side, holding a book in the other. Noctis and Prompto, despite the heat, are pressed together on the other end of the couch, engrossed in some super-duper King’s Knight raid—__________ didn’t have the heart to tell them she’d already participated in that event and beaten it on her way over here. She’s coming back from the bathroom, putting a hand to the back of her neck and leaving a little trail of ice there, and she—she kind of makes a noise halfway between a pained moan and a pleasured whine, and, almost instantly, eight pairs of eyes laser-focus on her like snipers.  

“Guh,” ___________ says, flushing at the sudden attention.  

“Everything all right?” Ignis asks, hand hovering just inside the freezer to withdraw the frozen ceramic mixing bowl.  

“Oh, uh, yeah...I’m fine,” she squeaks, rubbing her neck.  

“You kinda sounded hurt,” Prompto pouts. Gods. She wants to suck on those pretty thin lips until they’re swollen.  

“Oh, it’s...training’s kinda amped up lately. Neck and shoulders are a little stiff. I’ll be okay.” 

Gladio slowly lowers his book. “Want me to rub it out, sweetheart? I don’t mind.” 

___________ doesn’t miss the mischievous tone in Gladio’s voice and she rolls her eyes. Prompto’s eyes widen at his offer and his head whips around so fast that Noctis chuckles and mutters something about giving himself whiplash. Why doesn’t Prompto ever offer to do these things? He would if she asked, she knew that—but it’s not like she’d ever ask. Nope. Too awkward. Besides...while she knows that Prompto’s strong, Gladio is probably about three times stronger. She’s seen the man lift a car up on two tires...he’s probably pretty bomb at massages, ____________ muses, so she buries any remaining hesitation and pining and goes to sit sideways on the couch, back facing Gladio and practically knee-to-knee with Prompto.  

“Let’s see what you can do, big guy.” 

Prompto half-heartedly goes back to his phone and the King’s Knight session, but not even Noctis smacking him and calling him names can rouse him from looking at ___________ when Gladio’s big hands make contact with her shoulders and squeeze. 

The moan she lets out has Prompto practically gasping for air; he unconsciously grabs Noctis’ upper thigh and holds it in a death-grip, earning a hiss of pain from his best friend, but Noctis doesn’t move. Her eyes are squinted shut and her face is getting redder, and her whole upper body is quivering with the release of tension that Gladio is currently giving her neck and shoulders. Gladio’s breathing is even, but Prompto can tell that he’s exerting some effort, channeling his bulky energy and strength straight into his hands. His biceps are rippling as he flexes and works his fingers deep into the medic’s soft pale flesh, and Prompto can’t do anything except kind of cry and lick his lips. It’s a good thing she’s got her head bowed, now; but she’s still spilling out sinful sounds of relief as Gladio digs his knuckles into a particularly large knot at the base of her neck.  

“Oh, fuck, shit...fuck, fuck, Gladio, goddamn...” she whines, and Prompto scrambles to pick a throw pillow off the floor and slam it over his lap.  

“Too much, baby? I can back off,” says Gladio softly.  

Prompto feels a stab of jealousy in the middle of his arousal.  

___________ barely acknowledges the pet name—she's gotten more used to Gladio over the years and just kind of accepts the familiar monikers, noticing that Gladio calls almost every woman that, unless they hit him and tell him not to. She used to mind, but she doesn’t, now—not really. Gladio’s her friend. And...and if she’s being honest with herself, she kind of likes the attention. She didn’t ever think she’d get it. “No,” ____________ groans, exhaling breath she didn’t know she was holding. “You can keep going. Fuck, I didn’t realize it was this bad.” 

“You’re practically one big ball of stress, girl. When’s the last time you’ve had a massage?” 

“Uh,” she says. “I’ve...I’ve never had one?” 

“Shitting hell,” Gladio curses. “That’s it, I’m not letting you go without ever again. You’re getting one every week from now on, got it?” 

“Hey, if...” she moans as Gladio digs in another knot. “Shit...if you’re offering...” 

“I do believe some ice cream is in order,” Ignis says as he swoops in with five bowls of homemade vanilla on a large serving tray.  

Noctis practically throws his phone and dives for a bowl, having to pull Prompto after him, making him look away from the oddly sensual activity that’s happening on the other end of the couch.  

Ignis takes a third bowl and spoon and takes a bite, quietly analyzing Prompto’s flushed, pained expression as the blond slowly eats and watches in rapt fascination as Gladio’s big tanned hands work their way over the soft expanse of ___________’s shoulders. He exchanges a quick look with Noctis.  

The prince swallows a spoonful of creamy goodness. “Nice job, Specs. It’s very good.” 

“I thought so too,” Ignis says with satisfaction. He turns to the two others. “I hate to break whatever moment is happening here, but it’s going to melt.” 

___________ turns her head and gazes up at Ignis and chuckles—she leans out of Gladio’s touch for just a second and grabs a bowl; suddenly, the ceramic dish in her lap is caked with ice crystals. “Nah,” she says. “Not mine.” 

Noctis cackles and Prompto forgets that he’s turned on for two seconds as he leans back into the couch cushions, giggle-snorting with laughter.  

Ignis cocks an eyebrow and smiles. “Touché,” he says, amused. “Gladiolus. Care to ice your hands down for a minute or two? I can see the effort you’re putting into the job.” 

__________ lifts her head and turns. “Take a break, Gladdy,” she says as she eats the first bite of ice cream. She makes a pleased _mmmmmmm_ around the spoon and Prompto’s brain is back in orbit.  

Gladio takes his bowl from the tray and holds it out to her. “Wanna ice mine over a little, darlin’?” 

___________ laughs. “It’s the least I can do. Your hands are magic, dude.” She puts her own bowl between her crossed legs—Prompto's noticing how creamy and soft her thighs look, and he wants to write a thank-you letter to the company that makes short shorts for fat girls—and takes Gladio’s in hand, icing it over just a little before handing it back to him.  

The shield takes his bowl and cups his hands around it and most of the ice melts instantly. “Damn, I really was working up a sweat.” Gladio wolfs down several bites of the ice cream in succession. “It’s really good, Iggy. Thanks.” 

Ignis nods as he finishes and places his spoon and bowl back on the tray. “You’re quite welcome.” The adviser lowers himself into the armchair on the other side of the coffee table and lets his head fall back and his arms go slack on the armrests.  

“Oh, Astrals,” says Noctis. “Am I dying?” 

“What?” says Prompto. 

“Is...is Ignis... _relaxing_?!” 

“Holy shit dude, you’re right!” Prompto picks up his phone in his free hand and snaps several shots before Ignis can move.  

“It is quite warm, even after the ice cream and the blizzard you helped create earlier, Noct,” Ignis says without stirring. “Even I have been known to take a break from time to time.” 

“Take it easy, Ignis, I can clean the kitchen,” ___________ says, smiling.  

Prompto’s looking at her again, and his brain is at peak Teenage Boy Energy, because she’s got a spot of melted ice cream pooled at the corner of her plush lips, and Prompto’s mind zooms south and his imagination is so deep in the gutter he’s practically at the bottom of the ocean—and he’s still wishing he could just lean over and lick the ice cream from her mouth when she leans forward to put her bowl and spoon back on the tray, and he gets another eyeful of the black lace and side rolls of her stomach as she reaches her arm out long—and Prompto’s brain is burning hot along with the rest of him, he’s sure he doesn’t have any coherent thoughts left in his scrawny little body, but then she looks at him and asks, “You okay, dude?” 

“Yep!” Prompto quips, voice too fast and high. Gods. He wishes Ifrit would just kill them all with heatstroke already so he doesn’t have to suffer anymore.  

 

Almost a month later, and Prompto is pretty sure he’s got the mechanics worked out. He’s watched MoogTube videos. He’s gone to the Citadel library and read books. He’s asked both Gladio and Ignis for advice and techniques and help—yeah, he’s got the mechanics worked out. He’s even been weightlifting, since the day after Gladio gave _________ a shoulder rub, so that his arms can be stronger and give him the stamina he needs. Prompto is determined to give his best friend a massage if it’s the last thing he ever does. But while he’s sure of his technique—bless Noct for being the proverbial Guinea pig—he's not sure of  _how_ to get her alone and undressed enough for him to do what he wants, what his fingers are itching to do—to rub all over that soft expanse and elicit those delicious moans of pleasure-pain like Gladio had done. And the thought of him doing it to her on the regular—even though Prompto knows it doesn’t _mean_ anything, he’s been privy to a few sparring matches, he _knows_ what the Crownsguard and the Kingsglaive do in that gym, bodies pushed to physical limits, and who _wouldn’t_ need a massage after all that, day after day after day...the thought of Gladio doing it to her makes him batshit crazy and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.  

Prompto can’t figure out how to trick __________ into an accidental shoulder rub, so he steels himself for the worst and just blurts it out, like the human disaster that he is. It’s late, Citadel guard shift and photography studio shifts long gone, and more tomorrow—but the food truck near the park was still open and street tacos were half off because of the hour, so now they’re eating under a dim lamp on a bench by the greenway, watching ducks paddle around in the man-made lake even though it’s almost ten pm.  

___________ is just peacefully sitting there, staring at the brightly-lit fountain in the middle of the lake, and Prompto is looking at her profile, and he just can’t get over the roundness of her face or the cute little pouch of fat that makes up her double chin—it's only a double chin even though she jokes about having like, five chins—and he coughs and just says it before he can stop himself.  

“I wanna give you a massage. I’ve been practicing.” 

Prompto watches about a million expressions cross her face before she mechanically turns her head in his direction.  

“Huh?” 

Prompto flails now that he has to repeat himself, looks down and almost spills his last taco. “I...I’ve been practicing massages. It was pretty...interesting...” _Nice job buddy you got this_ “....y’know, when Gladio rubbed your shoulders that one time? I was thinking...maybe I could? I mean if you’re still hurting. If...if you still want it. I mean I’m sure his are better because his hand is like the size of my entire face but...” 

“Prompto.” 

He can’t read her tone so he drags his gaze back to her face, gratuitously ogling how cool she looks in her Crownsguard fatigues. He gulps. Fuck, she’s so pretty. Her hair is down out of its bun and it’s loose and wavy around her shoulders. Prompto wants to run his fingers through it. He also wants to get a fistful of it and yank it as he... _quit,_ he tells his libido. He feels his cheeks get hot as he stares at her. She looks...relieved? Maybe? That could just be Prompto’s gremlin brain talking but he decides to roll with it.  

“I’d like that,” ___________ continues.  

 _Oh, fuck. Shiva’s tits, okay. Okay it’s happening._ Prompto kind of squeaks, then clears his throat and she giggles and he bites his lip. “Oh...okay. Cool. Uh. When are you off next?” 

“I train tomorrow from nine to twelve, then I’ve got guard duty in the west gardens from one to seven.” 

“Hey, I get off at seven too! Sweet man. I’ll uh, meet you at your place?” 

“Sure thing, Prom.” She smiles at him again and bites into the last of her taco, sighing contentedly.  

 _Nice job, buddy. You got this._   

 

___________ was fidgety and distracted all through training. She misfired on Nyx Ulric twice, shocking the man enough to warrant him needing a hi-potion, and she was teased endlessly for the rest of the day, even after she’d cried and apologized about fifty times. Gladio had given her an amused look when she turned down his offer to rub her shoulders after training, only giving her a “Huh,” when she mentioned, around stuttering lips, that Prompto had offered to do it after her guard duty was over. She was a bundle of nerves for her shift, and the six hours seemed to drag on and go by too fast simultaneously. At 6:59, her replacement showed up—a young glaive that she’d only seen in passing a few times, a new recruit, but she’d clapped him on the shoulder and murmured good night and Astrals, she’d never left the Citadel so fast.  

At 7:39, ____________ is freshly showered and wearing a loose-fitting t-shirt and lounge shorts, snacking on leftover pizza, when her phone buzzes.  

 _From <3 Prom <3: Hey dude I just got home and cleaned up from work, cool if I still come over? _ 

Her heart’s pounding as she types the reply. _Yeah man I’m super stiff, head this way._  

 

She hears the roar of Prompto’s motorcycle from the end of the street and is up on her feet, hovering by the door even before she hears him park and cut the engine. She hears his heavy-booted steps climb the stairs and she waits with bated breath as the footsteps stop. A few seconds later, he knocks.  

She opens the door after another few seconds, grinning widely at her crush. Prompto is dressed casually in ripped black skinny jeans and a loose-fitting yellow tank top; his hair is a mess from the helmet he holds in one hand, and a black backpack is slung over one shoulder. His face is flushed from the heat.  

__________ gives pause, though— “Where’s your leather jacket, Prom?” 

“Oh, I, uh, it was dirty. I drove slow, don’t worry.” 

She frowns. “I do worry. If you were in an accident, your skin could be ripped off, dude. It’s not safe.” 

Prompto looks down and cards his hands through the hair at the back of his neck. “Yeah...yeah, sorry. It won’t happen again.” 

“I just want you safe, buddy. You can wear mine back home and give it to me later.” 

Prompto’s head snaps back up to her as she steps aside and lets him in. Her modest apartment is clean, the only thing being cluttered is the coffee table. There’s a candle burning on the kitchen table, and its warmth and lavender scent fills the whole space. Prompto blushes as he steps in and drops his backpack and helmet at starts to remove his boots.  

“So where is this happening?” _________ asks calmly as she closes the door and crosses the living room to the couch. “You want me on the floor and you sit on the couch, or you stand behind the couch and I sit, or...?” 

Prompto’s sweating buckets as he pulls a small bottle of massage oil from his backpack. “Ah-actually...kinda...kinda wanted to do more than just your neck and shoulders...so maybe...you lie on your bed?” Prompto bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t believe he’s doing this.  

__________ sucks in a breath and stares at Prompto, the oil in his hand, the flush on his cheeks. She swears this is something straight out of her schoolgirl fantasies and not her reality. She swallows hard. “Oh...shit, okay. Uh. Sure.” 

Prompto’s eyes snap open. “I mean, if...if you’re comfortable...” 

She chuckles shyly. “It’s you, Prom. Of course I’m comfortable.” Suddenly, the reality and implications of a back massage hit her. _I’m going to have to take off my shirt._   

“Uh, um...if you wanna go ahead...in the bedroom...and call me when you’re ready.” Prompto’s not sure he can do this now. It's going to take every ounce of self-control that he has not to come in his pants over this. He swallows thickly, mouth suddenly dry. The tension is palpable and he won’t blame her one bit if she just shoves him out the door right then and there. But to his surprise, her eyes go dark and she nods.  

“No peeking like last time,” she teases, hearkening back to the incident at Prompto’s house the day after he broke his ankle.  

“Ah-ah! I promise I won’t! I’m not...I won’t...it’s not like that...” he stutters, hoping she’s not getting the wrong idea about why he wants to do this.  

“Prompto, relax. I’m kidding.” She gets up and goes to her bedroom. Prompto shifts on his feet, doing breathing exercises to calm himself down, when she calls from the bedroom and he gulps one last time, willing his feet to move.  

She’s got the overhead light off, only two lamps and another candle on the dresser providing light. She’s stomach-down on the mattress, arms tight at her sides to hide any accidental side-boob, face turned towards the closest bedside table. Her back is all pale and soft skin, fatty rolls drooping slightly on the sides; a few random freckles, a couple of faded acne scars, some pink stretch marks on her lower back, right above the short black cotton shorts she’s got on. Prompto inhales sharply and his head is swimming as he crosses over to the bed. How long has he wanted to see her like this, splayed out and relaxed for him, bare skin his for the touching. Prompto ignores the twitches down south and rounds to the bedside table. She looks up to meet his gaze, face flushed with mild embarrassment, lips parted in a slight _o._ The blond wants nothing more than to lift her chin up in his hands and press his lips against her hot mouth.  

Instead he smiles and says, “Ready?” 

She gives a small nod. And then, “Have you been working out?” 

“Huh?” The question catches Prompto off-guard. “Oh, uh, yeah. Kinda.” 

“Gladio got you intimidated?” Her eyes sparkle with amusement. Prompto could look at them all day.  

“Ffffffff yeah, tired of him making fun of me.” Prompto lifts his arm to a 90-degree angle and flexes. “Almost there,” he laughs.  

“Think you’re fine how you are,” she murmurs.  

 _That_ goes straight to Prompto’s dick as he pops open the cap to the massage oil and pools some in his hand. “Uh,” says Prompto. “It’s...mind if I... get on the bed...it’ll be easier to get everything evenly?” His voice hitches.  

“Sure,” she says quietly, and Prompto tries not to faint as he shimmies on the bed, trying to balance with just one hand as he moves to straddle her hips and her butt.  

“Mmmmkay, here we go buddy! Magic hands time,” Prompto says, desperately trying to break the tight mood. He rubs the oil in his hands and tries not to moan as his bare palms make contact with her skin.  

___________ is sure she’s just going to shrivel up and die as Prompto’s bare hands work over not only her neck and shoulder muscles, but all the way down her spine, pushing at her sciatic nerves on each side and pushing down as he drags his hands back up. She’s letting out breathy moans and curses as the tension leaves her body, but heat and pure sinful arousal takes its place. She wonders if Prompto knows what sex smells like. She wonders if he knows how wet he’s making her. He’s bent over her, working at her back and shoulder blade and the stubborn knot just below her neck. She hisses at the pleasure pain and doesn’t even try to stay quiet as she groans his name.  

Prompto’s entire body is on fire and he’s not sure he has any nerve endings left. Gods, he can’t wait to go home and jerk off tonight. Every beautiful sound she makes is lodging itself in his spank bank and he wishes he’d had the foresight to have turned his phone to camera mode so that this could’ve been recorded; he realizes that’s borderline voyeuristic and creepy so he’s actually happy he didn’t do that, but damn his primal urges are almost out of control and there’s a reason he wore these _very_ restrictive jeans. Had he breezed in here in loose gym shorts, his arousal would’ve been much more noticeable. Prompto has a very good memory when he needs it, though—so he’s not worried he’s ever going to forget these sounds anytime soon. He shifts over her to put more massage oil in his hands and continues, thankful that his recent arm workouts have barely left him tired.  

 

Sometime later—neither of them is sure how long—Prompto feels his stamina finally giving out. His arms are burning with the strain and his hands are beyond sore; and ___________’s back is red and glistening with his efforts. Prompto had slowed his ministrations down considerably in the latter half of the evening, and ___________ had become quieter and quieter the more knots he worked from her body. The rush of endorphins and release of lactic acid has left her breathless and blissed out, and she’s lightly dozing as she feels Prompto slow his hands to a stop—but she doesn’t feel him get off the bed. Instead, she feels his hands press lightly on her upper arms, feels his hands rub over the backs of her arms where she’s so self-conscious of the keratosis pilaris there, and the random dark hairs that come from having too much testosterone in her body; feels his fingers subtly graze her palms and her fingers and she squeezes his hands before he can pull away.  

Prompto stills as he realizes that she’s grabbed both of his hands. He’s still straddling her hips, his crotch resting firmly on her wide butt as he prays that she doesn’t notice the pressure from his groin. He doesn’t move, doesn’t think, because he can’t--he kind of wants to stay like this forever, and part of him almost blurts out an inevitable “I love you,” but he doesn’t because he doesn’t think he’s worthy, so he just squeezes her hands in return and shakily finds his voice.  

“Did that...do you feel good?” Prompto asks.  

She mumbles a reply but Prompto didn’t hear it—so before he can stop himself he’s on his forearms, hovering just over her half-naked form, head right beside hers so he can hear.  

“Didn’t catch that,” he says softly. 

His breath tickles her ear and she wants to cry from the sensuality—it's taking everything in her power not to say “fuck it”, roll over onto her back, and crash her lips against Prompto’s. She sighs instead. “Was really good, Prom. Thank you.” She’s drooling and her eyes are heavy, half-lidded with pleasure and fatigue.  

“You...you want me to go...or?” 

“You can stay if you want.” 

“Oh...okay. You uh. Wanna get dressed first?” Prompto thinks he might be the only man who’s ever asked his half-naked crush to _get_ dressed.  

“Sure,” she mumbles, and she feels Prompto climb off the bed.  

“I’m turned around,” he says weakly.  

She opens her eyes and checks, and Prompto’s rocking back and forth on his heels, back to her. She sits up quickly and puts on her sports bra and t-shirt, then says “Okay.” 

Prompto turns back around and _fuck,_ he wishes he could take a picture—but his photographic memory will have to do for now. She’s all sleepy, face flushed from the deep tissue massage he’d been giving her for the last hour, drool dried at the corners of her mouth, hair unkempt, limbs slack with eased tension.  

“C’mere,” she mutters, and how can Prompto not go over to her? He does and she crashes into his middle, her arms easily closing around his waist with room to spare as she lets her head rest against his toned stomach. “Thank you, Prompto. It felt really good.” 

“Yeah?” Prompto chuckles nervously and places his hand on her head and rubs gently. “Glad I could help. I’m gonna have to fuss at the Marshal. Seems he’s working you too hard.” 

She chuckles as she pulls away and scoots back on the bed, lying down to face away from him. “Hug me,” she says sleepily.  

Prompto’s heart clenches and he rounds her bed and climbs on the mattress, lying close to her, foreheads almost touching. If she notices his heavy breathing, she doesn’t say anything. She takes his left hand and starts to roll it around in her short, chunky fingers, enveloping them in the blue aura of her innate healing ability. Prompto sighs as she picks up his other hand does the same, massaging his fingers and restoring his strength. He doesn’t move when she’s finished, and she makes no indication that she’s kicking him out. He eventually hears the tell-tale signs of her deep breathing, and he scoots closer to surround her with himself, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she sleeps.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE SEXUAL TENSION IN THIS FUCKING KILLED ME SO I'M TAKING Y'ALL DOWN TO HELL, TOO.


	11. I Think I'm Dreaming Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short but important peek inside Prompto's mind 
> 
> (Post-hs but pre-road trip)
> 
>  
> 
> ________  
> credits for the song "crushcrushcrush" and its lyrics belong to the band Paramore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written purely for my girl Amanda (@flopity-flips). I hope you enjoy this, babe.

Now that school’s out, Prompto doesn’t have much to occupy his time except for his part-time job at the photography studio that’s turned into almost a full-time job...he works over thirty hours a week but he’s grateful for the pay. His motorcycle project is long finished, and he happily zooms around Insomnia, almost always looking for __________ to climb on the back of it when she’s not guarding the Citadel or training or generally being her badass self. He still hangs around the arcade with her and Noct, as much as they can—but Noct has taken on  _way_ more responsibilities since graduation, and he’s attending a lot more meetings and delegations and balls than Prompto can keep track of. It’s getting kind of lonely, but he’s there for his friends as much as he can be. His photography blog has blown up a little and he’s done several engagement shoots, senior portraits, and baby announcements in different parks around the city; or in downtown in the cool little alleys that are covered in graffiti. His work is even framed in the studio, giving customers a sample of what high-end Lokton cameras can do (he’ll still never be able to repay Noctis for the graduation gift of Lokton’s top model camera, plus lenses and tripod and bag—the prince had visited him two days before they were scheduled to walk and just cleared the store of the most expensive products in there, and Prompto had obliviously checked him out...and then proceeded to faint on the floor when Noct had pocketed the receipt and handed him the bag full of products that’d cost over forty thousand yen, smiling slyly and wishing him happy graduation; he’d been sent home early that day and he cried for six hours before even opening anything).  

The only other thing to occupy Prompto’s time is his dreams. Well, mostly his daydreams, but there are dreams that come at night, too. Prompto’s realizing that he’s been in love with _________ pretty much forever and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s the king of self-deprecation and he feels pretty unworthy of even being able to hang around with Prince Noctis and his Retainers—he feels like the goofy comic relief 99% of the time and his only consolation is that his crush isn’t nobility, either; but still, she’s been blessed with the King’s magic and that puts her on near-equal footing with Noct himself so, again, back to his point: she’s out of his league, unattainable; so close, yet so far away. She’s his best friend and he’s grateful for that—Astrals, is he ever, he couldn’t bear to not be in her life at all—but gods, he wonders what it would be like to have  _more_. But he doesn’t deserve more, he tells himself. She’s beautiful and kind and smart and talented; and why would she ever love a nobody like him? 

So Prompto does the next best thing (besides jerking off to memories and pictures of her; gods, he’s  _pathetic_ , he thinks): he dreams. He keeps his search history hidden, grateful for incognito browser windows, because he never wants to do anything that would jeopardize his association with Noctis; because his saved tags on the free porn sites are always the same: _fat girl, fat girl in lingerie,_ _bbw, skinny guy fucks fat girl..._ basically, anything associated with women who are around __________’s size. Not that it matters— Prompto knows he’d be in love with her no matter what her body looked like, but he’s drawn to the inevitable  _softness_ of her; the way her breasts squish against his lean frame when they hug; the feel of her plush back under her palms when she’d miraculously let him give her a massage after a grueling day of training and standing watch at the Citadel; and how can Prompto tell her that he wants to live between her thighs? How can he explain that he wants her to sit on his face and suffocate him and that if he dies like that, it’d be the perfect way to go?  

He’s borderline obsessed with the way the fat girls on the internet look in lacy lingerie and garter belts and in fur coats with nothing underneath and in crop-tops and boy shorts and knee-high socks—fuck, Prompto would cut off his right hand, he thinks, if he could see her in some of the outfits he sees on the big, bold girls on social media. Prompto wants to explore every vast inch of her—if she were a mountain range, he would be the world’s best hiker. If her eyes were the ocean, he would willingly drown in them. Her curves are dangerous, like a winding road leading up to the highest peak in Eos—he can’t take his eyes off of her or he’ll fall off the cliff. The touches that he has stolen over the last few years are catalogued in his brain like almost nothing else is—his mind is a mess with anxiety and low self-esteem and his three brain cells are consistently in chaos; but parts of him are organized when it comes to video games, photography, technology, Noctis, and  _her._ Prompto wants nothing more than to hold her while she sleeps, every night—what he wouldn’t give to hold her soft body in his arms and caress her hair and lose himself in her mouth as he kisses her; what he wouldn’t give to hold and squeeze her big, soft breasts in his hands—and Prompto wonders if her nipples are as sensitive as they look (he got to see them one time, on accident, and he’s been thinking about it every day ever since); and he wonders what it would be like to bite and suck at them and draw out mewls of pleasure from her big, pouty lips.  

He can’t stop thinking about what she would look in thigh-high stockings, with her ample flesh spilling over the top of them, because she is just  _too_ much woman to be contained by any one article of clothing. Prompto wants to dress her up in silk and chiffon and lace and take pictures of her, endlessly. He wants to artfully arrange her body on the bed and take pictures of her from a hundred different angles. He wants to tell her she’s beautiful; a goddess, placed on Eos only for him to worship and pleasure; he wants to bask in her light, forever; but Prompto knows he’s not good enough.   

He wants to take her on dates, buy her dinner and little gifts that she’s never expecting—the little moogle figure from the hundred-yen store that she picks up and puts back, the pair of earrings that would match brilliantly with her skin tone, the t-shirt that makes her laugh because it says “Thick thighs, thin patience”--he wants to spoil her, make her know that she’s loved and appreciated and that the world is a better place because she exists. Prompto thinks, mindlessly, that if the concept of  _hanahaki_  disease were his reality, he would’ve been dead a hundred times over and it would’ve been worth it just to know her. He bites his lip and sighs at the bracelet that hides his wrist—he doesn’t know what it is, only that his parents told him that no one would ever understand, that he has to keep it hidden; and he feels like shit because he knows that she doesn’t keep anything from him, she’s always honest, but he’s a big goddamn liar because he knows he’s human but he’s some kind of human that’s been branded and he feels so isolated—he's come close to telling her, showing her, so many times, more than he can count, but he doesn’t because he’s a coward and he can’t bear the thought of her not being around him. 

Prompto hides and lies and dreams his nights away; and in the day he’s somewhat normal—he smiles brightly when she surprises him with fast food on his lunch break, because he was just going to have cup noodles again because it’s all he can afford; he listens to her read centuries-old poetry like she’s a college professor and Prompto thinks he’d be a millionaire if he had her brains; he walks with her in the park late at night even though he’s tired, because sometimes it’s the only time he can see her on a given day—and Ramuh strike him down if he goes more than twenty-four hours without seeing her. He wonders, idly, what she’d look like in a wedding dress; he wonders if he could even make it through a proposal without his heart bursting out if his chest—he can’t even work up the courage to ask her to be his girlfriend, so what’s the fucking point anyway.  

He wants to cuddle with her at night and make dumb pillow forts and watch stupid MoogTube videos. He wants to take her to the chocobo ranch—gods, will he ever get to see the chocobo ranch?—and ride the huge pack birds with her for hours, and then soak their sore legs away in a cheap hotel hot tub and make love in their room loud enough for the people on the other side of the walls to hear. He wants to fall asleep and wake up next to her, and he wants to play video games with her and give her shoulder rubs and hold her and tell her that her anxiety lies to her, that his opinion is the only one that matters and that she's perfect. Prompto wants to hear her scream his name in ecstasy and call his name to the dinner table. He wants to see her on her good days and her bad days, days when the training is too much and she still thinks she isn’t good enough; and days when she comes home from ten hours at Insomnia Medical Center’s emergency room when she’s covered in vomit and sweat and feces but she’s set twenty broken bones and healed a hundred more broken hearts.  

 

Prompto wants to tell her all of these things, but he can’t. So Prompto just dreams. 


	12. Shot Through the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why are you the last to know about Prompto joining the Crownsguard?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits to CyanideCherub for the exchange between the reader and Crowe. <3

It’s two am and they’re on the roof of Noct’s apartment complex. It’s the usual sleepover with the three of them, Gladio and Ignis having left several hours earlier. None of them have any duties until early afternoon, so they’re taking advantage of a late night just to bask in each other’s company. They’d had marathon of three alien movies, eaten all the snacks that Ignis had bought them, shared a bottle of champagne—Gladio's treat, much to Ignis’ protests, but at least they were home and supervised and not driving. Things are relatively back to normal between Prompto and __________, the events of a couple of months prior still a sore spot that no one ever really talks about. She tried not to think of the girl in the red dress having her hand on Prompto’s ass; Prompto tried not to think of losing his virginity to someone he wasn’t in love with. They’re all still best friends, but time is not as kind now that they’re all nineteen. Between work and training and guard duty and residency at Insomnia Medical, it’s only late nights that they can spend together more often than not, but no one seems to mind. They lean on each other for strength.  

They’re on the roof. Noctis is lying down, hands behind his head, in black sweatpants and a t-shirt, thin blanket beneath him. His two best friends are at his side—Prompto’s mirroring his position, but _________ is out like a light, breathing deeply, still in her scrubs after a ten-hour shift in surgery, and she’s clinging to Prompto, limbs heavy with sleep, like an octopus wrapped around its prey. Prompto’s arm has been asleep for an hour but he dare not move, and he looks like he’s on the verge of tears.  

Noctis turns his head and looks at the blond, looks at his medic’s arm draped over Prompto’s thin form, looks at Prompto’s face—his best friend looks absolutely  _taken_ , like he could die right now and he’d be the happiest man alive. He looks so fucked that Noctis feels a weird sort of jealously. He keeps thinking about taking one of their phones and texting a heartfelt confession to the other, but he doesn’t, because he wants this to play out naturally but he doesn’t understand why his two best friends are lovable oblivious idiots. They’re so  _smart_ when it comes to their individual talents but their anxiety and mastery of self-loathing has gotten in the way of the obvious.  

Prompto drags his eyes from _________ to Noctis and the prince grins. “You look comfy,” says Noctis.  

“I....” says Prompto, swallowing thickly. “I applied to the Crownsguard.” 

Noctis shoots up to a sitting postion. “What?” 

“I applied to the Crownsguard. Last week. I filled out the paperwork and gave it to Cor myself.” 

“Prompto, I...why would you do that?” 

The blond sighs and looks at the sky. “I’m tired of feeling like the odd man out. I want to be strong. I want to be  _good_ at something. I want to be good at something for  _you_. I want to protect you and be at your side, always.” 

“Was it ever a question of you not being by my side?” 

“I’m useless.” 

“You’re my best friend, Prompto. You’re not useless.”  

“I am though. I need to do something with my life.” 

“You’re a photographer.” 

Prompto chuckles softly. “I love photography, but it doesn’t make enough for me to be able to support myself. Besides, it’s not...it’s not as satisfying as I thought it would be. I need something more. I need to  _belong._ With you. With...” Prompto looks down to the girl at his side. “With her.”  

Noctis exhales deeply and looks to the stars. “I won’t say I’m thrilled, but I can’t stop you, buddy.” 

“You don’t think I’m good enough?” 

“I never said that.” 

“Then why are you so upset?” 

“It’s...protecting me, my dad, the citizens of the city...it’s dangerous. The Niffs are taking more and more territory every day. Do you know how many refugees are coming across the Wall every day? Hundreds, thousands sometimes. I just don’t...I don’t want to lose you to a stray bullet or some stupid shit. War is inevitable. I can’t...I can’t lose you, Prompto. I just can’t.” 

“I’ll work hard. I won’t slack. I’ll get good, better than anyone you’ve ever seen. I’ll put in the hours of training. I’ll let Gladio kick my ass for twelve hours a day until I’m good at fighting, if that’s what it takes. Please. Please let me do this, Noct. For you.” 

Noctis looks over to Prompto and the blond is borderline crying. He’s so tragically beautiful when he’s sad, and Noctis’ heart clenches. He knows Prompto’s doing it for a myriad of reasons, though, and he’s not upset about it. “I’m not the only reason, am I?” 

Prompto sniffs hard, stifling a choke. “Maybe...I’ll have a chance...if she sees me as her equal...maybe I can prove myself...” 

Noctis sighs. The words are on the tip of his tongue.  _She likes you. Shit, she loves you. She loves you more than anything else in the world._ But he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to butt in or have Prompto doubt him. Noctis knows that his anxiety will only allow him to believe it if he hears it from _________ herself—and even then, it might take convincing, but it’s the only thing that might remotely work. So Noctis bites his tongue and says, “If you feel that strongly about it, buddy. When do you find out if you’re accepted?” 

“I meet with Cor tomorrow.” 

“You know you’ll have to quit the studio?” 

Prompto sighs. “Yeah, but the regulars who come in there have booked me for a lot of shoots. I have faithful clientele, so I’m not worried about losing that part of it. I’ll miss it, sure, but. This is way more important to me. It’s either this or college, and I’m not keen on doing more school just yet. Maybe in a few years I’ll get a degree in something.” 

Noctis nods. “So uh. Have you thought about...your weapon of choice?” The words hurt to say. Noctis doesn’t want to think about Prompto with a weapon. He doesn’t want to think about him getting hurt. He already has enough people who were recruited to die for him. He can’t believe that someone is doing it voluntarily.  

“Y’know all those arcade games? I uh. Cor asked me what I wanted to do. I’m a huge klutz, so I know I’d be nowhere near Iggy or Gladio’s fighting style, but...I could be a ranged fighter, y’know.” 

“Guns?” 

“Yeah he brought me in the shooting range and I swear I’ve never seen so many guns in my life. He made me shoot about twenty different firearms for an initial screening. Target practice.” 

“How’d you do?” 

Prompto knows he has a tendency to downplay himself—but the Marshal said it, so he’s going to say it. “I did fuckin’ awesome, actually. Cor was lowkey impressed I think, which seems like it’s hard to do.”  

Noctis nods. “It is. He’s hard on  _me,_  bro.” But then he grins. He likes hearing Prompto say good things about himself. “I can’t wait to see you in action.” 

Prompto smiles back and _________ shifts, a little, swallows, but doesn’t wake up. She grips Prompto tighter in her sleep.  

Noctis, again, watches Prompto’s face as _________ pushes up against him and grips his hoodie. “You’re so whipped, dude.” 

Prompto sighs. “I want to be mad at you for that but I can’t deny it.” 

“Maybe after a few months in the guard you’ll tell her?” 

Prompto closes his eyes. “Maybe.” 

 

__________ has just gotten finished with some hand-to-hand combat training with Ignis—she'll never be excellent with daggers but she wants to at least be able to deflect an attacker and diffuse a situation, so that’s what Ignis has been teaching her, along with self-defense. She’s meditated and practiced controlled elemental magic to cool down after the physical workout she’d gotten with Ignis, in addition to cardio and yoga to make sure she’s maintaining some kind of consistent exercise routine to keep her stamina up. Her hair is up in a bun, long locks falling and frizzy around her face, sweat covering every inch of her. She’s in high-waisted leggings and a fitted tank top that has the Crownsguard insignia on the back. Gulping down a bottle of water, she passes Crowe in the hallway, who’s coming from the direction of the shooting range.  

The slender brunette smiles and greets her. “Afternoon, babe,” says the glaive. “You look good today.” 

__________ rolls her eyes, but kind of blushes at the other woman’s compliment. She knows that’s just how Crowe is, but she’s never shied away from it. She needs the girl-on-girl solidarity. “Ha,” _________ deadpans. “I feel eight kinds of gross. You done training for today?” 

“Yeah, but I gotta get prepped for a mission. Some recon south of the Wall. We’ll be gone for a few days, me and Nyx and some others.” 

“Oh shit, wow. Y’all be careful. When do you leave?” 

“At dawn.” Crowe cards her hands through her hair. “You wanna come? We could use a good medic like you.”  

“Oh, shit, uh...I don’t think I’d be very good at that. A real mission? You think I’m ready?” 

Crowe laughs and claps her on the shoulder. “Won’t make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with, but I think you could do it. Maybe next time. I’ll put in a word with the Marshal.” She frowns. “Shame we can’t take that new gunner in the shooting range, he’s pretty perfect. And easy on the eyes.” 

“Wait, what? I didn’t know about anyone new. A glaive?” 

“No, Crownsguard I think, I mean, that’s what he said. One of the prince’s. You didn’t know? There’s like, only three of you! Well, four, now, I guess.” 

__________ is completely baffled. Who would Noct accept into his own Crownsguard without introducing them all first? “I’m so fucking confused. He’s in the shooting range now?” 

Crowe nods. “Can’t miss him, and who would want to? Blond hair, blue eyes, the cutest little freckles...” 

_________’s heart nearly leaps out into her throat as she feels herself start to shake. “Wait...wait. Are you sure...are you  _sure_ that’s what he looked like?” 

Crowe raises an eyebrow. “You do know Blondie after all?” 

“Fuck me. Fuck me, Crowe, just fucking kill me now. Please, Astrals, I’m begging you. I can’t handle this.” 

“You gotta elaborate, babe.” 

“Fuck. Crowe. That’s...that’s  _Prompto_.” 

The glaive’s eyes go wide. “Oh shit, your little crush from school? Your best friend that you want to pound you through the drywall?” 

“Shut up, keep your voice down!” _________ clamps her hand over Crowe’s mouth as the glaive laughs.  

“He looked pretty hot in there,” Crowe continues as _________ drops her hand. Crowe’s brown eyes twinkle with amusement. “Sleeveless shirt, decently-built biceps, hair pushed back in a black bandana, face all flushed, sweaty, biting his lip in concentration as he shoots...” 

__________ closes her eyes and groans. “I’m going to have to quit and move to Accordo. There’s no way I’m going to be able to function now.” 

“You should go see him before he finishes,” says Crowe, laughing.  

She’s torn between a rock and a hard place; but in the end, libido takes over and she lets Crowe drag her to the shooting range. They stand in the doorway, out of sight of Prompto but close enough to get a view of the full package Crowe was talking about.  

Prompto’s in his black skinny jeans and a black muscle shirt, black bandana keeping his long layers of hair out of his eyes; his whole body is rigid and tensed as he holds a standard-issue Crownsguard pistol out in front of him. He’s got earmuffs on and safety goggles but it does little to diminish the wet dream that _________ is currently having in broad daylight. His arms and face and neck are completely slick with sweat and flushed red with exertion and adrenaline, and each shot he fires goes right into the bullseye—and right into her heart.  

Crowe elbows her in the ribs. “You think he’d be my best friend too?” she whispers, teasing.  

“I’m going to set you on fire in three seconds if you don’t shut up.” 

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I’m already on fire from watching Blondie here. And so are you, by the looks of it. You’re as red as a Leiden tomato.” 

_________ gulps but says nothing, only continues to watch Prompto as he drops his arms, pulls spare bullets from his pocket, flicks open the gun’s chamber, reloading and getting back into a stance and squeezing the trigger again.  

“You wanna tell me again why you’re  _not_ riding him like a chocobo on the regular?” 

___________ nearly chokes on her own spit as she swallows another huge gulp of air to try to offset the constriction she feels in her lungs. “Would you  _shut up_ , you’re so loud, he’s gonna hear!” she hisses. “Besides. No one wants to fuck a fat girl.”  

Crowe notices the change in tone and it’s something she’s been fighting __________ for over three years now. The slender brunette sighs and rolls her eyes. “You really need to pull your head out of your ass, girlfriend. Just walk up to him and  _kiss_ him, for the love of the Six.” 

“I’m praying to Ramuh that he strikes you down right fuckin now.” __________ wants to leave so desperately before Prompto catches her staring but she can’t. She feels Crowe pat her on the shoulder and then the glaive leaves, letting _________ continue to stare on in silent agony as Prompto shoots and shoots and shoots.  

 

When Prompto finally lets his gun disappear into the Armiger— _holy shit he can use the Armiger now_ , she thinks—and turns to see her leaning against the door frame, arms folded and face all flushed and sweaty—from training, she’ll tell him it’s from training—he breaks into one of his heart-stopping smiles and yanks off the earmuffs and safety glasses and bolts over to her. __________’s frozen in anxiety, and she doesn’t trust herself to move, or she really will do something stupid like kiss Prompto and then she’d really have to quit the Crownsguard and move to Accordo.  

“Hey buddy!” says Prompto brightly as he strides up to her, getting dangerously close.  

He’s always too close and somehow not close enough. _________ drags her gaze from his stomach to his eyes, and she miraculously keeps herself from licking her lips in front of him. “Hey, uh, so when were you gonna tell me about this?” 

“Um,” Prompto says delicately. He rubs the back of his neck and looks down and fidgets with his long, smooth fingers.  

 _Fingers that are covered in gun oil and gunpowder and sweat_ ; and ____________ can’t stop thinking about how she wants to lick his fingers clean so he can put them inside of her.  

“Today?” Prompto squeaks when his best friend is silent. “Was...was gonna tell you today. So this is me. Telling you. I’m in Noct’s Crownsguard! He didn’t have a ranged fighter, so...I mean I thought a lot about it, it’s not like this is a new thought in my brain, y’know, I just...wanted to feel important.” Prompto brings his eyes to meet hers.  

____________’s heart absolutely shatters. This means that Prompto is going to be in danger. This means that Prompto is going to be carrying weapons. This means that Prompto is going to have to potentially  _kill_ someone, or die trying, for Noctis. She doesn’t know if she can live with the thought of Prompto dying.  _I’m going to have to get twice as good as I am now to protect them both._   

“You’re not saying anything and it’s worrying me. Are you mad at me? Please don’t be mad at me.” Prompto drops his head. “Not again.” 

“I’m not mad, Prompto.” _________ reaches out and takes his dirty hand and holds it in her own, closing her eyes and letting the healing flow out and into him. Even when their strength is restored she doesn’t let go of his hand. “It’s just...it’s a lot. This is dangerous work. I mean it was kinda low-key when I was in school but now that I’m out and really training, working at the hospital...I mean Crowe thinks I’m ready to go on a mission outside of the Wall. And even though I’m not a glaive, they could actually need me. It’s serious. There could be a real war.” 

“I know,” says Prompto, voice cracking. “That’s why I can’t just sit by and be the regular buddy anymore, y’know? I have to do something. I have to do something bigger than myself, for Noct, for Lucis.”  _For you_ , Prompto almost says, but doesn’t.  

“I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

Prompto sighs. “Why is everyone acting like I’m some delicate flower that’s going to get bruised if I sit down too hard?” 

“I’m not...I didn’t mean it like that. I care about you a lot, Prompto. I just don’t want to lose you.” And shit, if he takes that romantically, then _________ supposes she’ll just have to live with the aftermath because there’s no way she’s about to water down how nervous she is about Prompto in battle.  

Prompto bites his lip and leans in and hugs her tight, buries his face in her neck. “I promise I’ll be good,” he whispers. “So you don’t have to save me all the time. I promise I won’t be the damsel in distress.” 

“I don’t think you are, Prompto. Please don’t think that,” she mouths into his shoulder. “I just don’t want to lose my best friend.”  

 

The weeks go by and ___________ coordinates her schedule so that she’s at the Citadel early for her training so that she can go watch Prompto shoot. She knows he’s been doing more strength training, too, because in the outside arena, she watches him lift and shoot fuckin’ bazookas like it’s nothing. Prompto is apparently very,  _very_ good with firearms—__________ doesn’t know why she’s surprised, she’s watched him play first person shooters at the arcade a hundred thousand times, but she’s still not quite prepared for how fucking sexy she finds it when she watches him in target practice. Prompto can do a backflip and land lightly on one knee and fire a crackshot at a moving target and hit it dead between the eyes. Prompto can run into the middle of the battle and slide home to Ignis’ polearm and fling himself in a circle with the momentum and shoot five moving targets down without breaking a sweat. Prompto can sit up on the roof of one of the Citadel’s wings and shoot a tuna can off of the top of a wooden post. Prompto can pull a potion from the Armiger and throw it to a companion in less than five seconds. Prompto...Prompto gives ___________ a heart attack every time he trains shirtless and in fitted athletic pants.  

 

“We’re sparring?” she asks incredulously. It’s 9 am on a Tuesday, and she’s just finished yoga and meditation in one of the more quiet training rooms, and she was about to pack up and head to practice magic with Noctis, but Prompto’s invading her space—as always—and she didn’t even make it to the door with her gym bag.  

It’s barely been a month since Prompto became a Crownsguard and quit his job at the photography studio, but it’s not like __________ hates getting to see Prompto almost all of the time. She suspects that Noctis and Ignis have been whispering in Cor and Drautos’ ears; somehow Prompto has been assigned to stand with her on half-shifts during her official guard duty. They make a pretty good team, she thinks, when they’re not getting distracted quoting memes or movie reference at one another—and they even stopped a guy who decided to charge a little back side entrance last week. But they hadn’t trained in mock battle with each other. Not yet.  

“Yep!” quips Prompto, brightly. “Straight from the Marshal himself.” Prompto’s not in athletic wear, but in his boots and black cargo pants and a black tank top that’s way too small, even for him, and _________ can see the effect that the daily activities are having on her best friend and she sighs, deeply.  

 _It’s just not fair_ _,_ ___________ thinks as she drags her gaze up the length of Prompto’s lean body and finally settles on his bright blue eyes.  _Oceans_.  “Uh, sure, Prom, okay.” She stands and hoists her bag over her shoulder. “Lead the way. What are we going to do?” 

“Well, Cor just said to practice our own fighting styles against each other.” Prompto pouts a little. “I mean my practice weapons have rubber bullets...I don’t want to hurt you.” 

__________ laughs and polls up the sleeve of her long, baggy shirt, revealing a gnarly bruise on her flabby left bicep. “Not sure you can hurt me worse than Gladio did yesterday. Talk about a guy who can whack someone pretty well with a wooden sword.” 

Prompto’s eyes dilate and his breath hitches as he reaches out and gingerly touches the bruise. “Gladio did this to you...?” 

“Yeah, but I managed to cast an ice spell on the floor and make him slip and bust his ass, so we’re even.” 

Prompto furrows his brows. “I didn’t realize you were getting so hurt in training.” He touches the bruise again, swipes his calloused thumb over the splotchy yellow and purple mark.  

“I’m okay, Prompto. Nothing a half a potion won’t fix. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.” She shivers at the gentle, intimate contact and watches heavy emotion flicker across Prompto’s face. She sighs as she lets her shirt sleeve drop. Prompto’s fingers don’t move. “We’re both going to have to get used to seeing each other get hurt. Even if we’re the ones doing it. We have to be strong. For Noct.” 

Prompto meets her eyes and drops his hand; tears form in the little crinkles of his eyes and he nods. Wordlessly, he pulls her into a crushing hug.  

“Ew, I’m all sweaty and gross, dude,” she laughs as she grips his back and squeezes tight.  

“I literally do not care,” Prompto breathes into her hair. “Fuck, __________, you’re so strong already.”  

“I’m not really,” she sighs into the junction of his shoulder. “I’m just trying to do my duty.” 

Prompto steps away first and looks at her in awe. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” 

A smirk spreads across her face and she winks. “Yeah? Let’s test that theory.” Her hands light up in crackling yellow static. “Think you’re good at evading lightning?” 

 

The question  _should_ have been, is ____________ good at evading Prompto’s bullets, because she figures that after only 15 minutes in, she’s covered in a hundred little red welts that sting like wildfire and that she’s in way over her head against her best friend. She’s managed to fling some of them away with magic, mostly freezing them in ice and letting them drop to the floor; but for every bullet that she magically catches in mid-air, Prompto hits her with three more that she can’t quite dodge.  

Not that he’s gotten off easy—his hair is sticking up like the back end of a chocobo after several shocks of __________’s lightning elementality, and his face is little red from being lightly fried. The bottom of his tank top is burned from barely dodging a fire spell, and he has to watch where he runs because there’s huge patches of slippery ice on the floor that his boots can’t quite grip.  

They’re both crouched behind large plastic barriers—almost like solid highway roadblocks, panting hard and trying to catch their breath. __________ is vaguely aware of Cor and Crowe watching them from somewhere outside the room—she knows that she’s probably going to get a talking to about being better at dodging bullets because all it takes is  _one_ , and she’s gotten hit with five score more than that. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to think of a strategy. She turns around and peeks just over her makeshift blockade, just in time for one of Prompto’s bullets to graze the top of her head as she squeals and crouches back down.  

Prompto cards his hands through his hair as he sinks to the floor and reloads his practice pistol. His adrenaline levels are through the roof and his endorphins are off the charts and he’s glad he’s wearing a jockstrap and a cup because he can’t help but get half-hard at all the sweating and running he’s been doing with his best friend. He hates hurting her, even during practice, but he knows they both have to get better to protect the man they’ve sworn fealty to. He sighs to himself as he thinks about the dance they’ve been doing for the past twenty minutes; and then he thinks about the dance he’s been doing with her for almost four years. Prompto wonders if he’s ever going to be able to tell her how he feels about her. But before he can continue his reverie, he hears a wild scream.  

Prompto pops up from behind his big plastic blockade and immediately finds himself frozen in ice before he can draw his gun. He watches in mild fascination as ___________ melts some of the ice down enough to kick him onto the floor; then releases the spell completely and finishes by straddling him and icing his hands and feet to the floor so he can’t move.  

___________ is breathing hard with the effort, shaking and feeling absolutely consumed with power. She lets the ice dissipate from her hands and sits up around Prompto’s hips, laughing nervously and tucking her hair behind her ears. Prompto looks like every wet dream she’s ever had right now—face flushed, freckles dark and eyes blown out wide, hair sticking up in crazy points, gulping hard and heart beating fast and sweat running down his face and neck and upper chest, collarbones glistening in the bright fluorescent lights... _________ gulps as she realizes their compromising position. She makes no move to stand, and neither does Prompto.  

“Well,” says Prompto, mouth suddenly dry. “That was unexpected.” Prompto is really,  _really_ glad he’s wearing a cup now because his mind has left their immediate solar system. How many wet dreams does  _this_ fulfill? She’s hot and sweaty, straddling his hips and looking down at him with half-lidded eyes and a small smirk, hair hanging around her face, mouth slightly open, as if she’s surprised that she actually managed to catch Prompto off-guard.  

“Wow. I didn’t think that would work,” she says, suddenly tired. “Fuck, I think I over-exerted myself.” 

Prompto manages to lean up on his elbows. “I didn’t hurt you too badly, did I?” 

“The stings are going away,” _________ says softly. “I’m fine Prom. You did well. You really got me.” 

“Well you’re not the one on the ground, so I’d say the winner is clear, here.” Prompto chuckles. “Wanna go again?” 

____________ pulls an ether from the Armiger and chugs it. “Bring it on, sunshine.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God DAMN I love me some sexual tension masked as military training.


	13. Sharing is Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL DONE DRAGGED ME TO HELL SO HERE, ENJOY YOUR SIN, YOU THIRSTY BITCHES

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after the Main chapter Touch-Starved, but right before the fourth year of darkness begins

It’s another one of those rare nights where _________ is alone. She’d been out in the city half of the day at the markets, shopping for supplies that she was running low on, and trading for equipment that she didn’t quite have enough money for—the portable EKG machine, the replacement filter for the Leville’s AC unit for the entire second floor, a pack of light bulbs, saline solution, Prompto’s specialty gun oil. She’d picked up more food on the way home to batch cook another few one-pot meals for herself and the hunters to eat. It’s late on Friday afternoon, so she’s expecting Prompto—maybe the others, but definitely Prompto—to be home at any random hour, so she hurries through the brightly-lit city center back into the hotel, waves to the manager and tosses him the air filter and the light bulbs, and takes the elevator back to the top-floor suite.  

She should know something’s already up when the door is already slightly ajar, but she nudges it with her foot anyway, calling out.  

“Prompto?” She steps inside tentatively, kicking the door shut with her foot and waddling into the living room with the heavy bags.  

“In here babe!” A voice calls from the bathroom.  

“Okay, welcome home!” She turns and sees Ignis in the kitchen, pots boiling on the stove, chopping up some tomatoes. “Iggy! You’re home too!” 

Ignis inhales sharply to himself.  _Home_. “I am indeed. What say you to some cassoulet? It’s Aranea’s own recipe. I thought I’d give it a go this evening.” 

___________ drops her bags and begins to put away the wares. She sets the medical equipment to the side with her mini-fridge full of potions and other chilled medicines, puts the gun oil next to the Calamity and the Bio-Blaster that are already on the floor next to Prompto’s bag, and hauls the rest of the cloth totes to the kitchen counter, peering into the pots on the stove that Ignis has on varying stages of heat.  

She puts the canned goods in the lower cabinet, and places the milk, meat, and vegetables into the freezer and fridge. “Smells really good, Iggy,” she says as she touches his bicep, and moves fully behind to wrap her arms around her waist. She feels Ignis put the knife down and place one strong, bare hand on her forearm.  

He’s dressed down in some old t-shirt of Gladio’s, if her memory serves her correctly, and thin plaid pajama pants. He’s warm to the touch and he smells like the bergamot and sea salt body wash she’d excitedly found at the market a few weeks ago. ___________ squeezes his strong, muscular form and rests her head against his back. “I’m so glad you and Prompto are back safe,” she says quietly. “You know I worry.”  

Ignis sighs deeply and rubs her arm lightly. “No need to worry about us, darling.” 

“The door was cracked when I came in. I  _was_ worried.”  

“My apologies. I believe it was I who was last through the door—I thought for sure I’d closed it.” 

“No worries, Specs.” She feels Ignis go back to chopping vegetables and she doesn’t move, even when she hears Prompto enter the kitchen.  

“Oh hell yeah, group hug! Iggy cuddles are the best,” Prompto says brightly as _________ laughs and pulls away from the taller man, allowing Prompto to crush his mouth against her own.  

“Are you two being adorably gross back there?” Ignis chuckles as he feels himself run out of tomato, and he stills his knife.  

Prompto pulls away from her first. “So gross, dude. It’ll make you throw up.” He makes a dramatic gagging noise, mimicking the way Noctis used to tease them on the road trip.  

__________ snorts with laughter and shakes against Ignis’ back, making a pleased hum as Prompto latches on to the both of them from the side and crushes his friend and his wife to himself.  

Prompto is also dressed down in soft pajamas, wet hair flat against his head, cheeks flushed with the warmth of the shower he’d just finished. He also smells like the body wash—all three of them smell like it, because she’d showered in the middle of the day after a pack of hunters had run through the hotel suite, getting food and showers and naps, restocking potions, asking for a little hands-on medical care, needing a pocket fixed here, a button sewn back on there.  

She basks in the warmth of Ignis and Prompto, and is loath to let go when Ignis softly protests that he needs to get back to dinner. It’s only six in the evening but time is irrelevant, especially when there’s no sun to judge the days. ___________ lets Prompto pull her into the bedroom, and she cracks the door that separates the living area from the beds. He pulls her onto their bed and snuggles her tightly.  

“Missed you,” he breathes into her neck, dragging his newly-grown goatee across her soft skin.  

She recoils playfully at the rough hair on his chin and laughs, finding his lips again and snaking one hand behind his neck to grip his wet blond hair firmly. ___________ moans into her husband’s mouth as they intertwine their legs and begin to make out on the bed. Prompto brings one arm over her plush waist and draws her to him, moving his other arm to rest below her head, stroking his slender fingers through her hair. She’s grown it out a little, but has kept the one shaved side. It’s not long before her kisses have him embarrassingly hard in a very short amount of time, but she’s had that effect on him for just about seven years, so he’s past the point of fighting it or trying to hide it. He begins to slowly grind his groin against one of her soft, fat thighs—thank the gods she’s in shorts, it’s just so fucking  _hot_ in Lestallum—and groans softly at the friction. His eyes are closed and he hears her stuttered breath and her breathy exhales and the softest  _oh_ s that she could possibly make with her voice, and Prompto bites his lip as he continues to gyrate his hips, getting that delicious friction where he needs it most.  

“I bet I missed you more,” _________ whispers against the warm, freckled skin of his neck, and she  _bites._ There’s not been any restraint play since the events of Zegnautus Keep, but the rough primal need still manifests in other ways.  

Prompto’s eyes roll back into his head and he snakes one hand up her shirt, across her bare skin and onto her breast that’s still annoyingly contained in her bra, when— 

They hear the door creak open and Ignis’ tired voice calls through the opening. “Dinner is served.” 

Prompto lets out a long exhale as he unravels himself from his wife and adjusts his half-hard cock in his pants as he stands. “Ye-yeah, Iggy, thanks. Smells great!” 

Ignis tilts his head. His glasses are off and his hair is down, one cloudy eye looking into the room but not directly at them. Ignis is blind but he’s not stupid. “Should I leave you two alone for a bit?” 

____________ jumps up. “No, Ignis. I want to eat dinner with you. C’mon Prom.” She grabs his hand and leads him to the door, placing a hand on Ignis’ shoulder. Ignis leads the way into the kitchen and sits on the couch as __________ drags out the dishes and silverware.  

Ignis clears his throat as Prompto sits next to him and pats his knee. “Thanks for the food as always, Iggy.” 

Ignis nods and turns to look in Prompto’s direction and hesitates. “Is it still appropriate for me to speak to the two of you while we eat?” 

“Of course dude! You know you can talk to us about anything.” Prompto hopes that Ignis can hear the smile in his voice—and he must, because Ignis smiles back genuinely.  

____________ serves the cassoulet to the men on the couch and then spoons several helpings into a bowl for herself, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of Prompto. She leans on one of his legs and he bounces it in approval. They eat in near-silence for several minutes, which is only interspersed with praises of Aranea’s namesake meal, reveling in the quiet comfort of each other's presence. It’s still weird to not have Noctis with them, even after almost four years of the crystal sucking him in like a divine Dyson; and Gladio only joins these meals rarely, spending most of his time in Hammerhead, trying to make headway with daemon-hunting and with Cindy. But _________ misses them all the same, like they’re only half a party, limping along without a leader and without, arguably, the strongest guy on the team.   

Ignis finishes his meal first, dabbing his full lips with an embroidered handkerchief that he pulls from the pocket of his pajama pants. _________ makes an amused hum at the very  _Ignis_ -like gesture and wipes her own mouth with a paper towel.  

“So,” Ignis begins. “It is not in my nature to ‘beat around the bush,’ if you will, or continue to live under false pretenses.” 

Prompto gulps down another bite of the food. “What’s on your mind, Iggy?” 

“Attraction.”  

___________ feels her face go hot, remembering the one kiss that he’d asked them permission for. That had been almost three months ago, and he’d never mentioned it again, simply content to revel in platonic hugs from the both of them whenever he returned from hunts in the dark wildlands of Lucis. She lowers her bowl slowly to the floor and looks up at him. Ignis has set his own empty bowl on the empty couch cushion, his body half-twisted in Prompto’s direction.  

“Attraction,” repeats Prompto as he takes another bite, chews, then swallows. “Attraction to...to who?” 

“Well, to you.” Ignis gestures with his hands as though he’s simply showing off a piece of art. “Specifically, to the both of you.” His voice is strangely calm, even-toned, even though his face is a soft pink. ___________ has known Ignis long enough, so she doesn’t miss the twitch of his mouth or the quiver of his right pinky finger as he speaks.  

Prompto nearly chokes as his eyes go wide and a deep blush creeps across his face, but __________ knows that the redness started below his belly button.  

“Is this more of that yearning you were talking about, Ignis?” she asks quietly.  

The adviser cocks his head in her direction while still turned towards her husband. “Indeed,” he replies.  

“So...so you’re like. Attracted. To...to me?” Prompto’s voice hitches up at the question.  

“Quite,” says Ignis.  

“And...and to ____________,” Prompto finishes, looking down at his wife, who’s still seated between his legs on the floor.  

“Are you planning on going away for a long time, Iggy? Is that why you’re telling us this?” __________ doesn’t know if she’s angry or not. The man has already kissed her; she can’t fathom what else he wants from her, from Prompto. She’ll never forgive him if he goes and gets himself killed before Noctis comes back.  

“My word, no,” says Ignis. He clears his throat again, cheeks nearing the shade of Prompto’s entire face. “I am confessing this because I...” His voice trails for a moment. “I want to be  _taken_. By the both of you.” 

____________’s ears are burning and her mouth suddenly feels dry. She looks up to Prompto, who’s darting glances between her and Ignis so fast that she thinks he’s going to make himself dizzy.  _Taken_. There’s no other way to interpret that, other than the obvious. They’re all adults. They all know what he means.  

“I am quite content with rejection, by the way,” Ignis continues, as though he’s reciting a shopping list. “I was simply unable to hide it any longer. It’s been consuming me, these feelings. Talking about them is half the battle.” 

“Ignis, don’t...” __________ begins.  

“I value the two of you as friends more than you could ever know. If circumstances had turned out differently, if Noctis had simply taken the crystal back to Insomnia and stopped Ardyn and ended the Starscourge right then and there, I have no doubt that these feelings would have inevitably reached the same conclusion. Do not think that this is simply an effect of the long night, or because I am bored, or because I’m dead-set on breaking up one of the happiest marriages I’ve ever had the pleasure to witness.”  

Prompto has tears free-flowing down his pretty freckled cheeks. “Ignis,” he chokes out. “Why didn’t...why didn’t you ever tell me?” 

“That I’ve been in love with all four of you for as long as I can remember? Because it served no purpose. Noct was getting married, Gladio always seemed...unapproachable. And the two of you...Astrals, we were all witness to the pining, childish disaster that was your high school years.” 

___________ laughs out loud at that. “I was pretty hopeless, you gotta admit.” 

Ignis smiles. “Telling me mere  _months_ after we’d met that you thought the four of us were the prettiest human beings you’d ever seen, begging me to keep your secret to the grave of your aching, desperate crush on Prompto. Dripping self-deprecation, thinking yourself unworthy of any semblance of normal, healthy love and affection...how did you expect me to handle that? And  _you_ ,” Ignis points his finger at Prompto. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you sizing me up and down all those years, while grappling with your feelings for _________ at the same time. Do you know how many times I thought you were going to tell me my affections were returned, only for you to prattle on about photography or chocobos instead?” Ignis says it in a way that would sound mean to anyone else, but Prompto laughs big and loud, even as he’s crying.  

“Damn, dude. I mean, if I’d have known...” He looks at his wife and bites his lip. Her face is as red as his at the thought of the possible direction of the evening. “You’re, uh, really perceptive, Igs. Not many people knew I was bi.” 

“It’s my job to be observant,” Ignis replies softly.  

“So,” ___________ cuts in, eager to rejoin the conversation. “We doing this?” 

“What?” blinks Prompto. There’s a stirring in his groin.  

“Are we gonna show Iggy a good time or not? Speak now or forever hold your peace.” She stands and picks her bowl up from the floor, gathering Ignis’ dishes as well and bringing them to the kitchen sink.  

“You’re...you’re serious?” Prompto squeaks. There’s more twitching down south and he’s starting to sweat.  

_____________ shrugs. “If you don’t want to, then fine. But I’m down. I mean...I mean, it’s Ignis, right? Think about it. There’s probably only three other people we’d want to get into bed with us. He’s one of them, yeah?” 

Prompto fidgets with his hands. He’s nearly gasping for air and he looks at Ignis, who hasn’t moved, one foggy eye still laser-focused on him, Gods, this is the culmination of about half a million wet dreams all at once. He doesn’t think he could love his wife any more than he does at this very moment in time. “I mean...fuck, shit, yeah. Yeah, Ignis. We’ll...we’ll take care of you.” Prompto gets up, dinner bowl shaky in his hands, and speed-walks into the kitchen with nervous energy. The dishes clatter against the others as he pulls his wife into a heated kiss before his fork even hits the bottom of the sink.  

“You’re sure?” he whispers into her mouth.  

“You seem pretty eager, baby,” she whispers back with a smile.  

“I mean, have you  _seen_ Ignis?” Prompto shakes his head. “Like...wow, dude.”  

__________ laughs and tears herself away from him, leading him back to the couch. Ignis is still seated, but his breathing is rapid, like now that they’ve decided to do it, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.  

“Ignis,” she says.  

“Darling,” Ignis breaths as he stands.  

She grabs his hand and leads him into the bedroom; Prompto brings up the rear and smacks Ignis on the butt, and the adviser snorts in mock offense.  

“Logistics!” Prompto sings as he discards his shirt. He can’t hide his giddiness any more. “How we doin’ this, Igster? Keep in mind that I’m a virgin when it comes to men.” 

“Thankfully, I am not. Don’t worry. I will walk you through it.” 

“Holy shit,” and Prompto goes red up to his ears.  _Of course_  Ignis is gonna be all matter-of-fact and almost  _clinical_ about the things they’re going to do.  

“Inquiring minds want to know,” says Ignis as he discards his shirt and pajama bottoms, leaving him in just his tight black boxers, and Prompto licks his lips. “What are  _your_ fantasies, Prompto? And _________?” 

She’s already naked, looking at Prompto, who’s hopping on one leg to get out of his pants and underwear simultaneously. And then she’s looking at Ignis, who, holy shit, is like a goddamned white marble statue. His  _legs_ , the thick, chiseled abs that could rival Gladio’s in definition, the v-cut of his hips, his tight, round ass... ____________ looks from Ignis back to her husband, who’s naked now, half-hard cock jutting out from between his delicious, freckled thighs, and she feels like she’s going to faint. She vaguely registers that the god in front of her has asked her a question. “Uh,” she says smoothly. “It’s...gods, whatever y’all want. Fuck, Ignis.”  

Ignis hums. “Are the two of you...prepared?” 

Prompto nods furiously as he flicks his wrist and pulls a bottle of lube and a box of condoms from the Armiger.  

“Prompto, you never answered my question,” and Ignis hooks his thumbs inside the waistband of his boxer-briefs and pulls down.  

“Nguh,” says Prompto gutturally, deep in his throat. “Shiva’s tits, Ignis. You’re incredible.” 

The adviser is bare before the two of them, now, clothes pooled at his feet—and that must show how into this he is, because he makes no move to find them and fold them. He stands, arms hanging at his sides, as he waits to hear how Prompto wants to proceed.  

“I, uh.” Prompto tosses the lube and the condoms on the bed. “I’d like to...see the two of you together, first.” 

___________ inhales sharply, but she nods at Prompto, completely trusting.  

“Bit of a voyeur, aren’t you, darling?” Ignis teases as _________ grabs his hand and leads him to the bed.  

“Reminder, Ignis, that I’m...” 

“I don’t bloody care,” Ignis cuts her off. “I’m sure Prompto shares the same sentiment. You could suffocate me between those voluptuous thighs and I would die happy knowing that I was allowed to indulge in you for only a night.” 

Prompto audibly  _moans_ at that and begins to stroke himself. It’s __________’s turn to lick her lips as she crawls onto the bed. Ignis feels for the mattress and follows after her, moving to hover over her as she guides him.  

“What would you have me do?” he asks, almost breathless, and __________ is aware of her own arousal already dripping down her thighs.  

“Your...your mouth...” she pleads as Ignis steals a soft kiss and inches down.  

“ _Fuck_ ,” Prompto groans loudly as Ignis scoots down and presses kisses to ____________’s soft expanse of stomach and finally nuzzles the dark, curly pubic hair right above her core. Prompto’s got himself fully hard now, stroking to the breathy pleading that his wife is making.  

Ignis finally dips his tongue into her wet heat and __________ arches her back and cries out loud, gripping the sheets. Ignis moans as he eats her out, rocking his hips against the duvet.  

Prompto locks eyes with his wife and moves to straddle his strong thighs around her chest, sinking down so that his groin is even with her mouth. She opens her mouth as wide as it can go and Prompto almost comes from watching that. He pushes his hot length into her mouth and braces himself on the headboard as he thrusts.  

Ignis hears _____________’s muffled cries and Prompto’s bitten-back curses and he comes up from between her legs. “Prompto, are you...?” 

“I’m taking her mouth, Iggy. You focus on making her come,” Prompto manages as he stills his hips for a moment, going back to the lazy pace he was setting before.  

“Bloody hell,” Ignis says as he grips ___________ her soft, fat hips hard and dives back in.  

___________ isn’t sure how many women Ignis has been with, but either the number is incredibly high, or Ignis’ daily attention to the minutest of details is simply bleeding into the bedroom because the man’s tongue is downright sinful. She’s gripping his sandy-colored hair so hard it must hurt, but it only spurs Ignis on further. He’s alternating between long horizontal licks on her pussy and soft sucking on her clit; he’s got two fingers pumping in and out of her and the one coherent thought she has during this is how much she’d wished Ignis had his gloves on. When Ignis needs a break he turns his head to the side and bites her fatty inner thigh that has her mewling around Prompto’s cock.  _Prompto’s_ _cock_. Number one, his cock is the only one she’s ever had (so far, anyway, if tonight is going to go how she thinks it will); number two, Prompto’s not absurdly long, like she imagines Gladio is; but  _damn_ , the girth on the man is more than enough to fill her up and stretch her jaw until it’s aching. But ___________ is determined not to bow out of this. Noctis could walk through the door right now and she doesn’t think she’d stop. Prompto’s got his solid pale thighs around her shoulders and he’s bent low, gripping the cheap headboard with white knuckles as he pants and groans into her mouth.  

“Who would’ve ever guessed,” Prompto whispers low as he fucks her throat. “You’re so damn selfish. Do you like having two cocks all to yourself? Do you like feeling Iggy eat you out while I claim your mouth? You’re so fucking beautiful like this, ___________. So debauched and dirty.” 

Her husband’s filthy teasing is enough to push her over the edge as she fists Ignis’ hair hard enough for him to cry out as she starts to buck hard against his face. Ignis pushes his tongue into her wet folds that are gushing, pushes his nose up against her overly-sensitive clit, grips her fatty hips hard enough to bruise and holds her as she rides out her orgasm. Prompto feels her come as she cries out around his cock, and then he grits his teeth for a half second before he’s crying out a string of curses and  _I love_ _you_ s as he paints her throat white.  

Ignis sits up on strong, supple haunches and licks his lips, wiping __________’s juices from his chin and his cheeks and then licking his fingers afterwards. His cock is hard and hot and he’s wondering what ounce of self-control is still in him that prevented him from grinding to completion. Prompto pulls his cock out of his wife’s mouth—he’s got stamina for days, so he’s still hard, and moves beside her to wrap his strong arms around her and kiss her mouth, and he moans as he tastes himself on her. She sniffs back tears and shakily sits up on her forearms.  

“Goddamn, Ignis,” she says, breathless.  

“I could say the same,” Ignis smiles as he looks in the direction of her voice.  

“Your turn, Igster,” Prompto quips as he moves to the empty side of the bed where he’d tossed the condoms and the lube.  

“As you wish.” Ignis reaches out a hand and __________ takes it, like he knew she would, and she pulls him into a dirty kiss, licking around his entire face, cleaning him of her essence, before moving her lips back to his and biting on his bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood.  

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me,” Prompto mutters as __________ moves out of the way and guides Ignis down to the bed. She lies beside him and presses her large, soft breasts to his side. Ignis adjusts and folds his legs, spreading them so that Prompto can sit between them and get access.  

Ignis hears the lube cap and inhales sharply, stilling the one hand that was rubbing lazy circles into _________’s back. “Just go slowly,” Ignis says softly. “It’s not unlike having your fingers inside of a woman. I’ll prompt you as you go.” 

“Got it,” Prompto breathes. His own fingers graze his still-hard cock and he shivers. He’s  _so_ turned on. He inches closer and pushes one wet index finger into Ignis’ tight ring of muscle. He feels Ignis flex and relax as he slowly begins to move in and out.  

____________ doesn’t know who to look at—her husband pleasuring their mutual friend, or the friend that’s so normally put-together, with his face still sticky with her slick and bobbing red cock. Ignis isn’t as girthy as Prompto, but he’s  _long_ , and he’s leaking pre-cum all over his stupid eight-pack, and ______________ is wondering when she’s going to wake up from this dream because there’s no way this is actually happening.  

“Think you could do with two, now, love,” Ignis says low and heated, and he moans beautifully when Prompto adds a second digit. “Scissoring motion, open me up for you,” Ignis begs.  

“Fucking Astrals,” Prompto curses as he follows Ignis’ request. He slowly works the taller man open, and then he tries to remember all the fanfiction he’s read and he pushes his long trigger fingers to the hilt and curls  _up_.  

“ _Fuck_!” Ignis lets out a rare curse as he arches off the bed as Prompto hits his prostate and doesn’t let up, repeating the motion now that he’s gotten the hang of it. He bucks his hips hard, moaning deep.  

_________ is mesmerized by the way Ignis’ cock moves with her husband’s fingers inside of him—at the same time Prompto adds a third finger to stretch him out even more, she’s climbing on top of Ignis with her ass to his face and flicking her tongue against the velvety head of Ignis’ length.  

“You gonna take him into your mouth, too, ________? What a cock slut,” Prompto smirks as he winks at his wife and she can’t help but blush. The years of darkness have emboldened them both in different ways, and Prompto’s discovered that he rather likes teasing her.  

“It’s so rude of you to leave him hanging,” __________ quips back as she lowers around the first few inches of Ignis’ cock and grips his base with her hand to steady him.  

“By the Six,” Ignis growls, almost pained. “Prompto, if you don’t fuck me right now, I swear I’m going to...” 

Before Ignis can even finish, Prompto’s withdrawn his fingers and is fiddling with a condom. He rolls it on and liberally applies more lube, then positions himself back between Ignis’ dreamy legs and guides himself in.  

“ _Gods,”_ Ignis breathes. “You’re so  _thick_ , Prompto.” 

“Yeah, well,” Prompto laughs, freckled cheeks blushing. “___________ has all the other thickness in this relationship. I had to compensate somehow.” 

__________ brings her head up for air just in time to avoid snorting with laughter around Ignis’ dick. “Oh, my gods, you’re such a fucking dork!” She laughs long and hard and beautiful.  

Ignis actually cackles as Prompto continues to fuck him, laughter dying down after a few minutes as he registers no further touches to his aching cock.  

“Darling, I hate to order you around, but if you could,” Ignis begins as he reaches to pat one of her legs, on to realize that it’s no longer in reach. He feels her grip his base again, and then suddenly he’s enveloped into a deeper, tighter heat that is definitely not her mouth. He can’t even form words anymore, all he can do is whine as _________ sinks down around him and begins to ride.  

Prompto stares his wife in the eyes as he fucks Ignis, bringing his hands to her shoulders and using them for leverage, while also holding her up so she can ride him. They share heated kisses; Prompto bites at her neck while she grips his hair and cries out unintelligible babble. All Ignis can do is grip __________’s ass and hang on for dear life.  

 

Prompto feels himself cresting, and he comes hard and hot as he thrusts violently into Ignis, making him shudder with a loud cry. “I’m...I’m going to...” is all Ignis can say as _________ clenches down on him, hard, and he shoots up into her with more desperate prayers and bastardizations of her name. 

It’s at that moment when __________ registers a key in the lock of the door—there's only one other person that has an actual key to the hotel room, and before any of them can move fast enough, Gladio walks in and drops his jaw and his duffel bag simultaneously.  

“Bloody hell, is that the door?” asks Ignis as he sits up on his forearms.  

Prompto shields __________ from view as he cranes his neck and shoots daggers at the intruder. “Dude! Can you like, give us a few minutes?”  

“Su-sure,” Gladio stutters as he picks his bag back up and backs out of the hotel room.  

Prompto turns forward once he hears the door click back shut. “Well, fuck. This is gonna be fun to explain.” He pulls his softening cock out of Ignis and pulls off the condom, tying it in a knot and shakily walking over to the garbage can by the desk.  

_____________ climbs off of Ignis and stands, hand bent on her knees, trying to catch her breath.  

Ignis flops back down flat on the bed. He doesn’t want to move. How can he when two of his best friends have fucked him to heaven and back? He pinches the bridge of his nose, though, at what he’s going to do about Gladio. He hears his two friends getting dressed, and then registers soft fingers maneuvering an article of clothing onto him. He lifts his hips as ___________ slides his underwear back on, and he catches her hand before she can continue. “Darling,” he starts.  

____________ leans down and kisses his lips softly, placing a warm hand on his cheek, thumb absently caressing the bottom of the scar on his left eye. “Are you all right, Ignis?” 

He snorts. “How can you even ask such a question?” 

“We’re just the gift that keeps on giving!” sings Prompto as he puts Ignis’ feet into his pajama bottoms and slides them up.  

Ignis manages to somehow convey an eyeroll as he smirks and finally sits up. “Prompto.”  

“Yeah buddy? Got your shirt.” 

“One last thing.” 

“Hm?” Prompto looks up from turning the shirt inside out and sees Ignis just inches away from him, full and perfect lips parted. He can’t help but blush again.  

“I don’t believe I got to indulge,” Ignis whispers quietly as he presses his mouth against Prompto’s.  

Prompto drops Ignis’ shirt back onto the floor as he snakes his hands into Ignis’ hair and kisses him back with a vengeance.  

It’s one of the hottest things ___________ has ever seen and she couldn’t look away if she tried. The moans that Prompto is making against Ignis is making her wet all over again and she knows that she should’ve felt jealous during all of this, but she can’t. She loves Ignis too damn much for that, and she trusts Prompto with not only her heart, but her life. She’s still reeling from the fact that not one, but _two_ of the most beautiful men she’s ever laid eyes on want to take her to bed. And that she’s married to one of them...gods. She doesn’t know what she did to deserve any of this, but fuck, is she ever grateful.  

There’s a knock at the door, and the two men reluctantly part. Prompto’s face is flushed and his lips are even more kiss-swollen than they were before. Ignis looks like something out of an adult film, with his sweaty, rippling torso and his just-got-fucked hair.  

“Can I come in now?” Gladio gruffs from the other side.  

“Allow me,” says Ignis smoothly as he stands; and he walks unaided, barefoot and shirtless, pajama bottoms and underwear riding too low on his chiseled hips, to the door of the hotel suite.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Seriously though, did I handle this okay? I was super worried about the whole thing. Validate me.)


	14. Delicate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the first year of high school, you and Noctis are still getting to know each other. It’s both heartbreaking and wonderful to be friends with the prince. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some quick fluffy drabble based on a suggestion by my dear Amanda. Everyone's got weird body stuff they hate, right? Even Prince Noctis.

It’s rare for you to be alone with Noctis, but it’s not something you’re eager to shy away from, either. Getting to know the prince better was high on your list of priorities, and it’s not like you were going to refuse Noctis anything. It’s Friday night in the Citadel training facility, and it’s late—most of the glaives have gone home, but you’d stayed for a long time in order to keep yourself distracted. You were still getting the hang of sparring with your magic, but the constant encouragement from the Marshal and the others had you feeling a little more confident the more you practiced.  

You’re exiting the women’s locker room, freshly cleaned up, duffle bag slung over one shoulder, when you collide with another warm body. “So-sorry! I wasn’t looking...” 

“Hey, you’re here late.” 

Your eyes snap up to see the smiling dark features of Noct, damp hair plastered to his forehead, towel slung over his shoulder, clothed only in fitted black sweatpants and tennis shoes. You blush as you stumble a few steps backward. “Oh—hey, Noctis,” you say shyly, looking down.  

“You did well today. I watched you for a while.” 

“You think so?” Your eyes crinkle as you flash a genuine smile at the prince in front of you. “That’s...really kind of you to say. I tried hard.” 

“And it shows. Magic’s not easy, even if you have an affinity for it.” Noctis shrugs, lean muscles glistening in the low light of the facility. “But you’re good. Keep at it. Glad to have you on my side.” Noctis claps a hand on your shoulder and smiles.  

“Thank...thank you, Noct. I’ll try hard for you.”  

“I know you will. You uh, have a ride home? It’s almost nine.” 

“Oh! Well, I was going to take the bus home.” 

Noctis raises an eyebrow. “You sure? C’mon, I’m sure Specs is still working. I’m sure he’ll drive you home.” 

“Oh--I didn’t want to bother Ignis, I mean...he’s so busy...” 

“Nah, I’m ready to go home too. Two for one deal,” Noctis laughs.  

“I mean, if you’re sure. I don’t want to be trouble.”  

“You’re never trouble. C’mon. Let’s go see if he’s in his office.” Noctis turns and walks ahead of you, leaving you to follow a few steps behind and watch as the dim lights illuminate the deep scars across his skin. You’d seen Noct shirtless a time or two before, but never really had the courage to ask him about something so personal. But tonight, strangely, your inhibitions were lowered.  

“Hey, uh, Noct. So-sorry if this is too personal, but can I ask...about your scar?” 

The prince visibly stiffens but keeps walking at the same lazy pace. He sighs deeply.  

“Forget it! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to offend you...Ignis said I should try to get to know you better so...”  

“Hey, it’s okay.” Noctis pauses and turns, smiling shyly at you. “I’m not mad. Let’s talk about it.” 

“You’re sure?” 

Noctis nods and beckons you to walk with him at his side as he continues. “So when I was like eight, Niflheim unleashed a daemon, Marilith, to attack my father and our retainers. There were servants who died protecting me, but my dad saved me. I used a wheelchair a lot, spent a long time in Tenebrae recovering. It’s how I met Luna.” Noct shrugs. “I mean, that’s the gist of it. Pretty traumatic, I guess” 

“Oh--shit, Noct, I’m sorry.” You can’t help but tear up at the story. “I didn’t realize you had part of your childhood ripped away like that...” 

“Hey, don’t—don’t cry for me. I’m fine now.” 

“I know, but...but...” 

Noct nervously rubs the back of his neck as the two of you enter the Citadel proper and climb into an elevator, bound for Ignis’ office. “It’s pretty unprincely, though, right? The scar. Sometimes it still hurts. Kinda gross-looking.” He flushes in mild embarrassment. “Bet I’m not so pretty now, huh?” 

“Are you kidding?” You laugh lightly. “It’s not gross at all. Come on dude, I’m training to be a combat medic. I’m doing hours at the hospital, watching doctors cut people open and put them back together. Gonna take a lot more than that to curb your good looks.”  

Noctis blushes even harder and looks at you, face in genuine shock. “You...you’re not like, repulsed?” 

“Oh please, Noct. C’mon. I’ve got weird body shit too, y’know.” 

“Your body’s not weird.” 

“I didn’t mean, like. Size.” You blush and nervously grab the hem of your athletic tank top. “I’ll show you...if you want. If it’ll make you feel better.” 

Noctis nods and watches you with wide eyes.  

You lift your shirt slowly, stopping just before your bra line, baring your stomach for Noct to see. You swallow hard as you reveal the rippled fat and multicolored stretch marks that adorn your skin. After several seconds, you put your shirt back down. “So...see? I’ve got stuff I’m embarrassed about. And...and it’s harder, y’know, ‘cause I’m a girl, and...and guys probably think it’s gross...” 

“Dude, that’s like, kinda cool actually. It almost looks like a tattoo.” 

“You...you think so? You don’t think I’m ugly?” 

Noct shakes his head. “How could I ever think that? My opinion should matter the most to you, right?” 

You laugh. “Okay, Prince Ego.” 

Noctis slugs you on the shoulder just as the elevator beeps, indicating the floor number. You follow him out and down the long, dark hallway to Ignis’ office, smiling.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I've been struggling lately. Check out this tumblr post if you have the time. 
> 
> https://incinc.tumblr.com/post/187072735418/help-i-guess


	15. Tender Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of the king recovering from a heart attack, three friends find themselves wrapped in each other on the cold hospital floor. Hearts can be tender in a plethora of ways.

Update 11/10/2019: Now with amazing art from CyanideCherub! [Check it out here! ](https://thevirtualcanvas.tumblr.com/post/188955991346/for-incinc-from-her-crushcrushcrush-drabbles)

 

  
The hospital room floor is impossibly cold, and the pile of paper-thin blankets do little to ease the biting iciness. Ignis and Gladio are sitting vigilant in hard-backed, uncomfortable chairs beside the king’s bed, the former almost constantly on his laptop, unwilling to even rest when he’s away from his usual office. Clarus is in a third chair closer to Regis’ side—the Shield is holding his hand in an unwavering and shameless act of tenderness. Cor is standing watch outside of the hospital room. He’s been told he can go back to the Citadel, but he won’t move.  

The king’s recent heart attack has been kept very hush-hush, spun to the media as a vague routine medical procedure, though no one will say what. There are cameras outside of the hospital, but the staff won’t let them in, and the glaives outside of the main hospital entrance are frisking everyone twice over and asking twenty questions.  

The three kids—they're nineteen but they’re still kids, aren’t they, deep down?—are huddled together on the floor, and they’ve all forgotten how long they’ve been here. Has it been two hours, twelve, twenty-four? None of it matters. ____________ is in the middle of them, wrapped up in a fleece blanket, head in a sharp right angle on Prompto’s shoulder. The blond has one arm around her, head leaning on hers, free arm folded across his stomach. He’s still shivering a little, even through the sweatpants and hoodie and boots. Noctis is tucked against __________on the other side, wedged between her and the large weekender bag that they’d all opted to share. He’s wrapped up in one of the thin hospital blankets, too, clothed in warm pants and a jacket and boots.  

His father still hasn’t woken up yet. It’s been too long. He’s still hooked up to the damn oxygen mask and it’s making Noctis angrier by the second. His breathing is even, though—and the nurses are in at the top of every hour to check his vital signs. The prince blinks open into the dim light of the room. He hates hospitals. They smell like lemons and bleach and death. He yawns, scowls over at his father, Clarus dozing even though he’s seated upright, Gladio hunched over in one chair, Ignis diligently tapping at his laptop in the other.  

___________ shifts a bit, makes a low moan in the middle of her deep breathing, but doesn’t wake. The sound that follows is so quiet that Noct almost misses it. “Prompto,” she breathes through a slack-jawed and drooling mouth.  

Prompto’s hoodie is wet with the evidence of her unconsciousness.  

Noctis smiles, in spite of all of this. It’s something he’s come to understand, this unspoken love between his two best friends. He only wishes Prompto were awake to witness it. Maybe something would happen. Maybe it would give him something good to focus on instead of his ailing father and the war.  

As if on cue, Prompto shifts, makes a small whine, and sits up abruptly—blinking his bright blue eyes open. They’re sunken in with sleep deprivation, circles under them, reddish tint to his cheeks and nose because of the cold. He smiles weakly at his best friend. “You okay, buddy?” he whispers.  

Noct looks to his father again, watches the steady rise and fall of his chest, watches Ignis muse over some official business or other. They had all tried to keep him away, at first, but Noct had barged in the CCU with _________ and Prompto in tow, scared as hell and refusing to be anywhere else. He snaps his eyes back to Prompto. “Yeah,” Noct breathes, though it’s only a half-truth.  

____________ rustles again, small sounds escaping her throat, hands tightening around the blanket. “Prompto,” she breathes again, digs her head further into his shoulder.  

Prompto stiffens, blushes—he thinks he’s on the cusp of understanding something, there’s a revelation just out of his reach, a puzzle piece that just won’t click. He hugs her closer, presses his lips to the top of her head.  

Noctis watches them and it breaks his heart—maybe in the same way his father’s heart broke two days ago, when they’d whisked him away in the ambulance.  

Prompto lifts his gaze back to Noctis. “He’ll be okay, Noct. Your dad’s tough as shit.” 

Noctis nods, because he knows this, but Regis just looks so  _vulnerable_ , hooked up to wires and machines, the incessant beeping keeping time with his own heartbeat. Ignis looks up from his computer, registering that the prince and his gunner are awake.  

“Noct,” Ignis starts. “Are you all right?” 

“Fine, Specs,” he says as he shifts closer to the girl beside him, reveling in her warmth.  

“You’re sure you don’t want me to take you home?” 

Noctis frowns. “I’m not leaving until he wakes up. Stop fucking asking me.” 

Ignis sighs. “If you insist.” 

“I do.”  

“Very well, then.”  

There’s a gurgle of organs somewhere between the three young bodies on the floor.  

“Ooooh, that definitely wasn’t the nurse call button,” Prompto laughs quietly. “I guess I am kinda hungry.” 

Now that Prompto mentions it, Noct can’t remember when he ate last.  

Ignis closes his computer quietly and stands. “Shall I go to the cafeteria?” 

Noctis raises his head as Ignis glides over and squats before them. He smiles affectionately at _____________ and places his hand on her cheek—that too breaks Noct’s heart, but he’s not sure why. Ignis stands, adjusts his glasses. “Preference of meal?” 

Noctis shrugs. “No carrots.” 

Ignis rolls his eyes.  

“I’m good with whatever,” Prompto says as he yawns. He glances down. “Should we wake her?” 

“No need until I return,” says Ignis. He glances back over at Gladio, who’s still asleep sitting down. “Perhaps I should take Gladio with me. He could use a nice stroll.” Ignis goes back and places a gloved hand on the younger Amicitia’s shoulder. “Gladiolus.” 

“Hmmmmm,” the older man shakes awake, yawns, cracks open an eye. “What’s up Iggy?” 

“Care to take a trip to the cafeteria? His Majesty is still sleeping peacefully, and the children are hungry.”  

Gladio stands up and stretches, flexes his big muscles, cracks his neck.  

“We’re not children,” Noct mutters.  

“Hmph. Coulda fooled me.” Gladio turns, watches Regis under the blankets, hooked up with a dozen different wires, his father, slumped over at his side, hand in hand with his king. “Should we take dad?” 

“I doubt your father would budge if we even offered,” Ignis sighs fondly. “I’m sure between the two of us, we can carry an adequate number of to-go containers.” 

Gladio nods, face softening as he passes the pile of bodies on the floor. “He’s gonna be okay, princess.” 

“Yeah,” says Noctis, but he’s still scared anyway. He watches his Shield and adviser leave the hospital room; and the nurse comes in a few minutes later, fusses over Regis, makes notes, administers medicine, updates his charts.  

She pauses before leaving, looking at Noctis and Prompto. “Prince Noctis, your father’s vitals are stable. We’re expecting him to make a full recovery.” 

Noctis stiffens at the title, but sets his jaw hard and nods. “Yeah. Thank you. Thanks for taking care of him.” 

She bows her head slightly. “Of course, Highness.”  

 

Gladio and Ignis return with food about twenty minutes later, bags full of Styrofoam containers of stir-fry and pizza and chicken tenders, bottles of soda and tea and water. There’s normally not food allowed on this floor, but—this is the king’s room they’re talking about, and no one’s about to say anything to retainers of the crown prince.  Prompto leans down and whispers once they come back with the cafeteria food.  

“Hey,” he breathes low and hot. “It’s food time, __________. You wanna eat with me?” 

___________ rustles, nestles her head further into his shoulder. Warm fire blossoms deep in his belly and Prompto blushes, smiles, looks up at Noctis, who’s smirking.  

“C’mon,” says Prompto, brushing a long lock of hair behind her ear. “Please? You need to eat, stretch. We’re all here. Noct, Gladio, Iggy.” 

Finally she stirs properly, lifts her head and groans, shivers, looks up at Prompto. “Food?” 

“Food,” Prompto assures her.  

___________ turns to her other side, where Noct is finally disentangling himself from their nest. “Are you okay?” 

He shrugs. “I guess.” 

She looks to Regis in the hospital bed, where Gladio is rousing his dad and urging him to eat something. The two old men seem so small—the sleeping king, hooked up to beeping machines, oxygen tube in his nose; Clarus as close as he can be without being in the bed himself, reluctantly taking a container and slowly eating its contents at the request of his son.  

Ignis takes a couple of bags and goes over to the three teens and sits cross-legged in front of them, doling out containers and drinks.  

“Hell yeah, pizza,” says Noctis, troubles easing away under the greasy cafeteria food.  

_____________ pushes the blankets to her lap and stretches, making soft whining noises, yawning big and loud as she rubs her eyes. She blinks at Ignis, who’s holding out a bottle of water and a clamshell container.  

“You must be quite famished, darling,” says Ignis. “The three of you have been asleep for hours on this cold, dirty floor.”  

She nods, blushing a little. “How’s his Majesty?” 

“They expect him to make a full recovery. His vital signs have been stable for the past thirty-six hours.” 

“Atrals, have we been here that long?” she opens the container to the beef and vegetable stir-fry within, and her mouth waters. She misses the way Prompto watches as she licks her lips and stabs her fork in the middle of the food.  

Ignis nods, handing Prompto his own drink and container, coaxing him out of his shameless staring.  

“Am I...is there anything I can do? Feel kinda useless, being a medic and all, and all I’ve done is slept on the floor.” 

“Were you needed, we would have asked you,” says Ignis simply. “You’re not useless. The king is in good care here. Your role right now is to be moral support for his highness, which is exactly what you’ve been doing.” 

“Hmmmmm,” _________ hums around a bite of food. “Y’sure I’m not just pillow support for his highness?” She shoots Noct a side-eye.  

The prince meets her gaze and shrugs as he takes a too-big bite of pizza. “Not my fault you’re all warm and soft.” 

 _That_ catches Prompto’s attention and he cranes his neck toward Noctis incredulously, behind ___________’s back.  

(Like Ignis can’t see what’s going on, but whatever.) 

“Dude,” says Prompto.  

“What,” says Noct.  

Prompto chews his bottom lip and then thinks better of it. “...Never mind.” 

“Uh...glad to be of service?” __________ takes another bite of stir-fry and drinks. “It’s damn cold on this floor, though.” 

“You two should head home, get some proper rest. I can call you when his Majesty wakes up,” says Ignis.  

“I’m not leaving if Noct’s not leaving,” ____________ says with finality.  

“Ditto,” says Prompto.  

“What  _am_ I going to do with you three?” says Ignis, smiling softly.  

 

A few hours later, the three friends are all fed and showered and changed, and they’re huddled back on the floor. There was an attempt to do a few King’s Knight raids, but Noctis passed out first, and now ____________ and Prompto are huddled under a blanket, whispering to each other.  

It’s warm with the blanket on top of their heads, and ___________ can’t move too much, because she doesn’t want to disturb Noctis, who’s slumped over on her side again; but Prompto’s so  _close_ , and no one can see them, and of course she’s concerned for the king, and she’s been in the hospital all this time because of him—but Prompto’s arm is around her and she’s close enough to count the freckles one-by-one on his face, and everything else melts away. She forgets about the cramped space and the cold floor and the way her muscles have been folded into a pretzel for so long. She lifts her gaze to Prompto, finally looking away from her phone.  

He’s staring at her, trying to keep his breathing even. Their heated breath is making it hot under the blanket, and Prompto swallows nervously. If he were any braver, he’d kiss her right here and now—but he’s not. He’s so scared of ruining it, he doesn’t know if the timing is right.  

“Hey,” he says.  

“Hey yourself,” ____________ replies. It’s almost too much, being this close to him. It feels so good to have his arm around her, and it’s everything she can do to keep herself from crying.  

“You, um,” says Prompto, mouth suddenly dry. “You said something in your sleep.” 

____________ stiffens. If she’s accidentally confessed her feelings while dreaming, she’s not sure she’s ready to talk about it. “Uh oh,” she laughs nervously.  

“No, it’s nothing bad!” quips Prompto, voice going high. “You just, uh. You said my name.” 

“Oh-oh.” She feels her cheeks flush red. “Well, I mean...you  _are_ right here. Or maybe I was having a dream?” She lies. She was totally having a dream, and she remembers every detail.  

“Yeah? That’s cool. Am I, uh. In your dreams often?” 

“Well,” she starts, eyes flicking down. “I mean, all of you are, quite often. You, Noct, Iggy, Gladio...I’m around all of you all the time. So I mean, yeah.” 

“Oh,” says Prompto. “That’s cool. What are your dreams about?” 

“Sometimes I dream we’re video game characters,” she laughs—and it’s true. “I had a dream we were all in King’s Knight the other day. It was pretty wacky.” 

“That’s awesome,” laughs Prompto. It’s enough for him, he thinks, to be in her dreams like that. He’s grateful to be such a big part of her life, even if he can’t have what he really wants.  

They fall into a comfortable silence, but after a few minutes, _________ puts her head on his shoulder again, and the sparks ignite low in Prompto’s stomach. He’s glad he’s wearing long sleeves so she doesn’t feel the goosebumps.  

“Sing for me,” she whispers so quietly that he almost misses it.  

“But everyone can hear me,” Prompto whines.  

“Please, Prom?” 

And how can he refuse her anything, ever? So Prompto sings a soft love song, humming the instrumental interludes, until he hears her breathing deeply again, and it’s not long before he succumbs to sleep again himself, with his head leaning on top of hers, still under the blanket, creating a heated space for just the two of them. And in that space between awake and dreams, he hears her whisper his name again, and Prompto wonders what it all means.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I've been struggling lately. Check out this tumblr post if you have the time.
> 
> https://incinc.tumblr.com/post/187072735418/help-i-guess


	16. Lights Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you're going to be trapped anywhere in a snowstorm, you might as well be trapped at Prompto's house, right?

It’s one of those rare weekends when Noctis has been summoned to the Citadel to have dinner with his father, followed by a series of meetings and other official business that doesn’t concern his friends at all. ___________’s family is visiting relatives back in southern Lucis; and Prompto’s parents, are, as usual, away on some business trip. It’s senior year and it’s like no one ever cares what they do anymore. So after training, _________’s showered and packed a bag and has taken the bus across the city to Prompto’s empty house. She’d gotten a severe weather alert on her phone about halfway over, and she thinks, idly, that if she’s going to be trapped in a storm anywhere with anyone, it might as well be Prompto. It’s chilly, winter weather starting to set in, and there are already light flurries in the air. Yesterday was the last day before winter break and the solstice holiday season, so the three of them are looking forward to a couple of weeks off of school, anyway. Her parents are going to be back before the holiday, but she’s not sure about Prompto’s. But since she’s known him, she’s made sure that he’s never been alone on days that counted. Noct, too, has gone above and beyond to make sure that Prompto feels like he has a real family when his actual one can’t be there.  

_____________ hops off the bus at the stop that’s in Prompto’s neighborhood, shoots him a text with one gloved hand, shifting her weekender duffle bag to the opposite arm as she trudges through the narrow streets. She finally arrives at Prompto’s house and knocks. Her pretty blond friend opens the door in a coat and a hat.  

“Hey!” Prompto quips brightly. “I, uh. Realized that there’s not much to eat. Wanna drop your bag in here and walk to the corner market with me?” 

“You invite a girl over and expect her to cook for you? Wow Prom.” 

“No-no, it’s not like that!” Prompto waves his hands defensively and whines. “Oh man, I’m already fucking this up, huh?” 

“Dude, man. I’m totally joking. You know I like cooking. I’m not as good as Iggy, but, it’s passable.” 

“Uh, you’re saving me from eating frozen pizza all weekend.” Prompto laughs. “You don’t mind?” 

“What, going shopping with you? Why would I mind?” __________ holds her bag out to Prompto, who takes it and shuffles it into the living room, then joins her on the front step as he locks the door. __________ shifts her crossbody purse and rubs her hands together. “Can’t believe it’s this cold already. Did you get a storm warning?” 

“Yeah, I did,” says Prompto as they begin to walk the neighborhood. “My parents left me a little extra in grocery allowance this week, so let’s make sure I’m stocked up on candles and batteries for my flashlights.” 

____________ nods and shifts closer to Prompto as they walk, slightly bumping hips.  

Prompto grins a little to himself and turns to her. Gods, he can’t believe how pretty she is. She's got a blue beanie on, with a fuzzy pompom on top. Her cheeks are flushed red with the wind’s chill, and her full lips are slightly chapped from the cold. Prompto knows the perfect way to warm up, but of course he’s not going to take the initiative. Noct was wrong—he'd said last year that  _this_ year would be his confidence year, that  _this_ year he’d finally come to terms with his feelings and actually tell his other best friend that he’s been in love with her for gods know how long. But they’re halfway through the school year and he’s pussied out like always, so Prompto thinks that being a prince doesn’t always mean you’re right about stuff. Noct has good intentions, he knows this—but no amount of divine intervention is ever going to make him good enough for her. He gulps as he tries to pull himself out of his own head and focus on putting one foot in front of the other as they head to the store. 

___________ is nearly knocked breathless on the icy sidewalk at Prompto’s wide smile as she initiates a smidgen of physical contact. Gods, he’s so gorgeous it’s not even fair. How can it ever be fair? She’s a fat, ugly lump of a girl and Prompto’s all lean, smooth muscle and bright blue eyes and galaxies of cute freckles on his cheeks and a jawline that could cut glass and fuck, she’d do  _anything_ he asked her to. She’s so lucky to have met him; she feels selfish for all of the one-sided pining, but honestly, she doesn’t understand how girls aren’t throwing themselves at him. (Then again, if they were—would it hurt more or less? She doesn’t know.)  Prompto’s  so inherently  _good_ —there's hardly a selfish bone in his body, and he’s always so giving of himself, of his time; and willing to do anything that she and Noctis want to do. He never asks for anything and it makes her want to give him the world. __________ knows her first duty is to Noctis, but—but in a very close second, she’s sworn to Prompto in a way she doesn’t think anyone else can understand.  

“Yen for your thoughts?” Prompto says through soft chattering teeth.  

“Hm, wouldn’t you like to know.” 

“Uh, yeah? That’s why I asked,” he teases. Fuck, she’s so cute when she’s a little sassy. Are all girls like this? Prompto doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to find out, either. He only jokes about not having dated or lost his virginity or whatever because that’s what guys are supposed to do, right? He wants to keep up appearances, like he’s a normal dude. But Prompto’s realizing that he doesn’t want just  _any girl._ He wants __________; but she’s the apple at the top of the tree, and Prompto doesn’t have a ladder.  

“Thinking about how glad I am to be your best friend,” she says quietly—and it’s not far from the truth.  

Prompto’s breath hitches and if _________ notices, she doesn’t say anything. “Fuck, ___________,” he breathes. “You’re my best friend in the whole world, aside from Noct. I would be lost without you.” 

___________ nods and wipes the tears that have started to gather—from emotion or the wind, it doesn’t matter, does it? Not when Prompto’s gloved hand is reaching to her cheek and thumbing the moisture away.  

“Dude, don’t cry! Then I’ll cry and our eyes will get glued shut from frozen tears and we’ll never make it to the store.” 

__________ snorts and giggles and shoves Prompto playfully; and he shoves her back, throwing an arm around her as she comes back close to his side, and they both stay warm the rest of the way.  

 

The convenience store isn’t busy—it seems that most of the neighborhood houses have already dimmed their lights in anticipation of the severe weather, and there’s barely been anyone on the sidewalks, to boot. They both grab baskets and Prompto allows __________ to pick out everything, trusting her food know-how a lot more than his own. She picks up a few ready-made sushi boxes, a few healthy tv dinners, and ingredients to batch cook several cold-weather meals, like chili and soup and traditional ramen. She can’t resist Prompto’s puppy-dog eyes, though, so of course a box or two of sugary cereal makes it into the baskets, some milk and juice, bread and meat for sandwiches; and whatever emergency weather supplies they both can think of, batteries and lighters and candles and a storm radio that’s on sale for only 900 yen. They’re giggling like idiots by the time they approach the tired clerk. Prompto’s eyes go wide at the rack of cheap keychains on the counter—there's a chocobo one nestled among the moogles and the cactuars, and if __________ has to look at his soft, pouting mouth any more she feels like she’s going to explode, so she throws it on the pile of food, despite Prompto’s protests. She piles on a handful of her favorite candy bars, too, and a photography magazine, and a few bargain comics.  

Prompto goes absolutely bonkers as __________ digs in her bag and pulls out a wad of bills as the cashier scans the groceries. “Dude, fuck. __________. No. No no no no,” he whines. “You can’t pay for all of this!” 

“I can and I will. I work, remember?” 

“So do I!” 

“Prom, I’m on Noct’s payroll. I got this. I don’t do much with my savings, anyway.” 

“You should save it for something you want! And you’re gonna move out soon, right? After the holidays?” 

“Dude, I have more than enough to cover the first few months of rent for the place I’m looking at, don’t worry. And besides, I  _am_ spending my money on something I want.”  _You_ is the unspoken word here, but Prompto’s goblin brain doesn’t make that connection. He vows to sneak his grocery allowance into her purse when she’s asleep so he won’t feel so guilty.  

The old man recognizes Prompto and smirks at his flushed red cheeks and the cute chubby girl who’s with him; he scans a few coupons and enters an employee discount and the whole pile doesn’t amount to as much as either of them thought. He gives them a few large reusable totes on the house, so they’re not carrying twenty little plastic bags—Prompto pockets the chocobo keychain in his coat before they leave the store, and he smiles like an idiot all the way back to his house, even if he’s outwardly groaning at the heavy grocery bags.  

When the two of them get back, __________ drags her duffle bag upstairs to the guest room, and searches the entire upstairs for flashlights and candles, not caring that she’s invading the privacy of Prompto’s parents’ bedroom; and then she brings them all down to the kitchen table. She helps Prompto put everything away, and as he opens the storm radio and puts batteries in it, and makes sure all the flashlights have new batteries, ___________ begins to cook.  

 

“Hopefully the power  _won’t_ go out,” she’s saying as she stirs the chili and tastes it for flavor. “Not sure how good cold chili and soup are gonna be.” 

Prompto shrugs. “Cold ramen is all right, though. And I have cans of tuna and stuff. And the cereal, and meat and bread. And the sushi.” He’s settled himself on the kitchen peninsula after checking all of the flashlights. He’s idly flipping through the photography magazine—it means so much more to him than she’ll ever know. He’s already attached the chocobo keychain to his school bag—it's his fifth one, but it’s his favorite already, just because she bought it for him.  

“Yeah,” she says, deciding that it’s good enough and moving the pot to the back burner to cool. _________ digs out another pot and places it on the hot burner, chopping up another pile of vegetables and herbs for a simple chicken soup. “Prom,” she says, turning to look at him finally.  

“Huh?” He looks up from the magazine. He can’t help but flush a little at how horribly domestic this all is—as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for his best friend and crush to be in his kitchen when his parents aren’t home, cooking him dinner for tonight and for the rest of the week. He didn’t even  _ask_ her to do all of this—she'd just offered, after a simple question of “Movies at my place after training?” Fuck. She knows just how to question him and get him to admit what he needs. Prompto decides that she’s hanging out with Ignis too much. “What’s up?” 

“You have a rice cooker, right?” 

“Oh, uh, sure.” 

“You want to put some rice on for this soup?” She smiles lazily, and she looks so in her element that Prompto forgets to breathe for a second. “Eos to Prompto Argentum.” 

“Ah, uh, yeah. Rice. Got it. I can do that.” And he can do it pretty well: it’s one of the things he’s used the internet for, during his lonely childhood. He’d looked up running tips, healthy eating habits, and stuff like BMI and portion sizes, and how to use a crock pot, and how to use a rice cooker. Prompto almost offers the crock pot, but he decides that he likes watching her do all the menial prep work, the defrosting and the chopping and washing. He’s worried that she’s doing too much, that this is dipping into girlfriend territory when she’s decidedly  _not_ his girlfriend—but shit, again, she’d offered, and he knows that the idle repetition and concentration of cooking is an anxiety-easing thing. So  Prompto  busies himself with adding the right amount of water-to-rice ratio in the countertop machine and turns it on to cook. He’s hungry  _now_ , though, and the deluxe sushi platters they’d picked out are easy, and it’s something he can help himself to without bothering her.  

“Gonna dig into one of the sushi trays,” Prompto chirps as he digs in the utensil drawer next to the stove.  

“Hmmmmm, I’ll allow it, but only if you share it with me,” she teases.  

Prompto flushes and laughs as he brings out two sets of wooden chopsticks.  

 

Some hours later, after all the meals have been cooked and portioned out into single-serve plastic containers, they’re huddled together on the couch, watching the marathon of holiday movies that have already started to loop on channel 25. __________ has changed from jeans into a much more comfortable pair of soft black leggings and an oversized sweater and socks. Prompto’s cranked the heat up to a decent temperature, and he’s in his softest pair of gray sweatpants and a hoodie. There’s a half-eaten bag of chips on the coffee table, bottles of water and soda for the both of them. ___________ is half-lying on Prompto, and he’s got his arm around her in a casual, easy way. She doesn’t think about this kind of contact as much as she used to, anyway. It’s something that’s become kind of the norm for them.  _Don’t make it weird_ , she has to tell herself—because if she acts weird or awkward, he won’t touch her at all, and then she really wouldn’t be able to live with herself. And Prompto, well— Prompto can’t help but want to hug her close. He used to ask permission, but one day she’d practically cried to him that she craved friendly contact, and even if she was a girl, it wasn’t weird—so he treats her mostly in the same way he treats Noctis.  _Don’t make it weird_ , he has to tell himself—because if he acts weird or awkward, she won’t want him to touch her at all, and Prompto thinks he’d die if that ever happened.  

 

“These movies are so formulaic,” __________ laughs as she snuggles more into Prompto’s body. “It’s always the same thing. Big city woman who’s too busy for her own good, who hates the holidays, and she gets stranded in her hometown with the handsome man she hasn’t seen in ten years. There’s a dog, and she has to help him save the bakery from foreclosure, and her parents play the subtle matchmaker. And then she quits the corporate job after the holiday and moves back home and marries the baker.” 

“To be fair,” says Prompto as he sips his soda, “in  _this_ one, the guy is the owner of a bookstore instead of a bakery.” 

“Gee, that makes it so much different from the  _last_ one we watched,” she says as she rolls her eyes. It’s not like she actually minds, though. She’d watch a hundred of these recycled plot lines if it meant that she could stay cuddled up to Prompto on his couch, forever; and she tries not to blush as the on-screen romantic couple shares their first kiss.  

“What do you think it’s like?” says Prompto towards the end of the movie, after the woman has admitted that the holidays aren’t  _that_ bad, after all; and now that she’s confessed feelings for the cute, homey bookshop clerk.  

“What’s what like, Prom?” 

“Kissing.”  

She hopes that Prompto doesn’t notice the way she tenses up. “Uh, I mean, your guess is as good as mine is. No one’s ever wanted to kiss me, so.” She shrugs. “I’m sure it’s nice, though.” 

“Yeah--yeah,” Prompto decides, and he chickens out on saying anything else.  

“Well, you haven’t dated anyone, either.” 

“Heh heh, you know me, buddy. Can’t talk to girls, no matter how much I want to.” He shrugs.  

“I’m a girl.”  

“Yeah okay, but you’re my friend, it’s different with you.” 

“Is that...good?” 

Prompto blushes. “I mean, yeah. You’re my best friend dude. You’re easy to talk to. And you’re a total nerd, like me.”  

“Yeah but, there might be other girls who are also nerds. How can you know unless you get to know them?” 

“Eh, we’re halfway through senior year. What’s the point now?” 

“All right then, don’t wanna hear you complain that you can’t get a date,” __________ teases.  

“Oof, harsh dude. C’mon ,you’re gonna roast me like this, while we’re watching a feel-good romcom?” 

___________ tilts her head up to look at Prompto. His eyes are sparkling in the low lamplight of the living room, and his lips are curled into a half-smirk.  _Fuck_ , he looks so good—so kissable. “You’re such a dork,” she says, instead of saying  _I love you,_ like she really wants to. “Just watch the damn movie.” 

“I take it back,” Prompto says, mock-pouting. “You’re not easy to talk to. You’re mean.” 

____________ giggle-snorts as she turns back to the movie, where the two romantic leads are kissing under some snowfall, with cheery holiday music playing as the credits start to roll.  

And right then is when the weather decides to plunge them into darkness.  

 

“Well, fuck, here we go,” ___________ sighs as the TV and the lamps black out. “Good thing we ate already.” 

“Wonder how bad it’s getting outside?” Prompto starts to shift, moving to get up so he can look out of the windows.  

“Nooooooo, don’t leave me,” she whines.  

And shit, how can Prompto say no? So he doesn’t move for a long while, wrapping them both tighter in the couch blankets, looking up the weather forecast on his phone. Sometime later, his phone lights up with a picture of Noct’s face and the Justice Monsters theme song.  

“Hey buddy,” he says quietly.  

“Prompto, there’s been a power outage in your half of the city because of the ice.” 

“Yep, me and ____________ coulda told you that like an hour ago, dude.” 

“She’s still there with you? She’s not planning on leaving, is she? Do I need to like, send out Gladio on a snowmobile to come get you guys?” 

“Uh, and rob me of my chance to have my best friend snowed in my  _house_ for the weekend? I love you buddy, but you gotta be out of your mind.” 

Noctis is sure Prompto can hear his smirk on the other end of the phone. “You two finally gonna do something? You’re killin’ me, Prom. We’re halfway through our senior year.” 

“Being a prince doesn’t always mean you’re right, you know,” Prompto huffs quietly as he lightly rakes his fingers through her hair and stares down at her sleeping form.  

Noct scoffs. “Whatever dude. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.” 

“She doesn’t like me like that, bro.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I do, though.” 

Noctis sighs. “You’re giving me a headache. But fine, suit yourself. Are you guys okay? Safe? Do you have food?” 

“Yeah man! When she came over after training at the Citadel, we went to the store and she bought me groceries and made sure we were stocked up on batteries and candles. And a weather radio. And when we got home she meal prepped, and we have cold stuff and canned stuff we can eat if the power stays out for a while.” 

Noctis blinks in surprise on the other end. “...Huh. I’ll have to tell Iggy all that. He’s been going bananas about you two. Don’t know why he was worried. ___________ is almost like his mini-me.” 

“We’re just fine dude. We were just finishing a movie when the power cut out. We’ve just been on the couch. ____________ kinda dozed off.” 

“Don’t tell me it was of those overdramatic, horribly predictable holiday movies?” 

“The very same,” grins Prompto. “In this one, the small-town guy owned a bookstore.” 

“Bet he had a dog, though. They always have a dog. And lemme guess, he wooed the corporate office woman with a smile and some homemade cookies.” 

“Hey, were you watching it too?” Prompto teases.  

“ _Ugh_ ,” groans Noctis. “How do you guys stand that sappy stuff? You’re almost as bad as Gladio and his historical romance books.”  

“Well it’s not like we’re gonna hunker down and watch one of your scary horror films, Noct. That would totally ruin the mood. It’s almost solstice, after all.” 

Noctis rolls his eyes on the other end, but smiles anyway. He offers a silent prayer to the gods that somehow they’ll accidentally kiss this weekend or something and end everyone’s suffering. “Yeah, yeah. Call me if you need anything, all right? And take care of my medic.” 

Prompto grins. “You got it, buddy, stay safe.” He clicks the red button and sets his phone on the arm of the couch. Even through the very dim light of the one candle that’s burning on the kitchen table, he can see the quiet, slow snowfall outside of the window. The loss of the central heater is starting to get to him, but Prompto’s not as cold as he would be if he were alone and miserable and trapped. He looks back down at the girl who’s asleep and half on top of him, and he couldn’t be any more content.  

 

They’ve got a makeshift blanket fort up around the couch and the coffee table, kitchen chairs completing the look, now. The phones tell them it’s ten o’clock at night, but time is irrelevant in the face of rapidly-dropping temperatures and piling snow banks around the house. They’ve turned on the weather radio, and phones have been plugged into external power banks, and candles are lit in the kitchen, bathroom, and bedrooms—and the rest are on the floor around them. They half look like they’re about to hold a séance--but _____________ slaps down a  _Draw 4_ and sticks her tongue out at Prompto. They’re still all bundled up in leggings and hoodies and sweaters and sweatpants and fuzzy socks. 

“Uno,” she says, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and taking another sip of room-temperature tea.  

“Oh, c’mon,  _really_?” Prompto whines. “I have like, half the deck, dude. You sure you’re not like, using magic to cheat or whatever?” 

_______________ rolls her eyes. “Prom. I’m a healer, not a psychic. Don’t be a sore loser.” 

Prompto sticks out his tongue but laughs anyway. As if he could ever  _really_ be mad at her. Their enclosure that they’ve created is keeping their heated breath and laughter and the faint heat from the candles in a miasma of warmth and light. And Prompto thinks, even as he feigns exasperation at asking her what she’s changing the color to, that it’s not fair for her to smell this good.  

_____________ gazes across the candlelight to Prompto’s twisted features as he searches for the perfect Uno card. The finicky, flickering light illuminates his sharp features and freckled face  _just_ right. She still can’t believe he’s friends with her—that he genuinely seems to like her, as a person. It blows her away. She’s so insecure, so weird, so trapped in her own head most days that it’s hard to function. But Prompto always knows just what to do during anxiety attacks—and he’s been teaching the other guys how to react to them, on the odd occasion that he’s not around. He’s just so damn  _cute_ , and  _good_ , and  _sweet_ , and it’s like she always forgets how to breathe when he’s around. ___________ used to think it was stupid, those sappy romantic comparisons of people to the sun. She’s a practical girl. The sun is a star that could hold about a million planets were it hollowed out—stare at it too long, you go blind. Stay out in its light too long, you get burned and dehydrated. But since meeting Prompto, it’s literally the only thing she can think of to compare him to. He lights up the room with his smile, the twinkle in his eyes. His personality is warm and kind and giving; his skin is always warm to the touch, too, like he’s some kind of personal heater. Stare to long at him, and you get addicted and you can’t look away even if you want too—and isn’t that just as dangerous as damaging your eyesight? 

 

At midnight the candles are all burning low, so they grab the huge LED flashlights from the table and extinguish them, using the flashlights and lights from their phones to do nightly bathroom routines and such. Prompto pauses when he goes to his room—he stands in the doorway and watches ____________ shuffle into the guest bedroom by the light of her phone. And fuck it—it's cold, and he doesn’t want to sleep alone in the crushing darkness. He thinks he can spin this so that it’s not weird.  

“Hey, uh--” and his voice catches in his throat as she turns.  

“Yeah Prom?” 

“We should, uh. It’s cold, y’know. And we should like...preserve body heat. Or whatever.” 

If Prompto catches the longing in her eyes, he doesn’t say anything. Her lovesick brain puts two and two together as she swallows. It won’t be the first time they’ve shared a bed—hell, they’re all so comfortable with each other now that Ignis is frequently walking in on them on Sunday afternoon to them all piled in Noct’s big king bed, a mass of twisted limbs and warm bodies and drool and soft snores. She used to freak out about the bed-sharing, but Noctis is a serial cuddler, and it’s not like she’s gonna shove the crown prince away. He always feels good in her arms—and when Prompto’s sandwiched on the other side, well. A girl can’t complain, even if they’re all just in the definitive “friend” territory.  

“You wanna share the bed?” 

“Ye-yeah,” Prompto falters. “The spare room’s bigger, so...” 

___________ nods, smiles shyly. “Sure thing, dude.” 

Prompto gulps, darts back into his room for his chocobo blanket and plushie, and follows her into the spare bedroom.  _Don’t make it weird_ , he repeats to himself, like a mantra.  

 

The next morning finds them together in the bed, shivering under almost all of the blankets in the house. The power is still out, which means the heat is still out, but at least it’s daylight. ___________ wakes first to a phone that’s quickly dying of battery, but she looks up the number to the electric company and files a report of the outage at Prompto’s address. Then she calls Ignis.  

“Hello love,” the adviser answers on the first ring. “Are you and Prompto all right? I’ve tried not to worry. Noctis told me of your responsible efforts last night. I’m quite pleased.” Ignis is relieved. At least the two dumb teenage boys have a slightly-less-dumb teenage girl to be a sort-of level head when he’s not around. Ignis is perfect at his job, but he’s still only one man. If he’s stuck in the Citadel with Noctis and Gladio, ___________ is the next-best person to be stuck taking care of Prompto, he thinks.  

“You don’t have to worry about me, Iggy. I’m a big girl. But uh, the power’s been out since like seven last night. I’ve called and made a report to the electric company, but if it doesn’t come back on soon, Prompto and I might die of cold in his house.” 

Ignis hums. “I can assure you that we are well aware of outages across the city, and emergency teams are doing their best to clear the ice and repair the lines. Just stay put for now. Prompto doesn’t have a back-up generator, or a fireplace, or anything?” 

“I don’t...I don’t think so? Not that he’s mentioned. He’s still asleep, so...I’ll ask him when he wakes up, I guess.” 

And because Ignis knows everything, he asks, “I do hope the two of you shared a bed to keep your body heat somewhat intact?” 

____________ can’t help the blush that rises to her face, even though Ignis can’t see it. “Ha,” she says. “You’re good.” 

Ignis snorts a quiet laugh. “You keep no secrets from me, darling. Despite your refusal to share your feelings, I know the two of you are incredibly close. Of course the circumstances provide a proper excuse to sleep together.” 

All she can do is nod and sigh. “ _A plus_ for deduction, Ignis. But anyway. Uh. Phone’s not got much charge left. We’ve been running on external battery packs, y’know.”  

“Quite. Be safe, you two. Stay warm. Please let me know if we do need to come collect you.”  

“I will, Ignis. Uh. I hope, y’know...that I’m excused from training...and stuff?” 

“But of course. The whole city is almost shut down with this storm. You’re not expected to be anywhere else other than where you are.” 

“Okay, I was just checkin’, y’know.” 

“You won’t be in trouble, I assure you.” 

“Okay, thanks Iggy. I’ll call if we need anything. Bye,” __________ says as she hangs up the phone. She connects it back to the battery pack and puts it on  _airplane_ mode, then shifts back under the blankets. Prompto’s turned to her, face slack with easy sleep and heavy breathing. It takes every ounce of self-control for her not to reach out and card her fingers through his soft blond hair that’s swooped across his forehead, or to cup his face and run a finger over the freckles that dot his upper cheeks and the bridge of his nose. She sighs instead, scooting closer to him, burying herself back in their shared nest and reveling in his closeness and body heat. The lights may be out in the house, but Prompto keeps the lights on in her heart.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, things have been hard lately. Check out this tumblr post if you have the time. I won't object to a coffee, if you catch my drift. Same username. 
> 
> https://incinc.tumblr.com/post/187072735418/help-i-guess


	17. We Can Dance If We Want To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God FUCKING bless this took me 5 months to write. I'm sorry if it's bad, I just wanted it finished.

You didn’t understand why Insomnia High’s school board was dead set on torturing you. You’d gone home that afternoon, screaming at the Astrals (if they were even listening, sometimes you thought they weren’t); face flushed with embarrassment as, in your wildest daydreams, you asked Prompto to go to the spring formal, and he said yes.  

You didn’t even know how to dance, but you thought maybe Ignis would be willing to teach you at least a simple waltz despite your two left feet—or Noctis, surely Noctis knew how to dance, what with all the formal Citadel events he was always attending, grand receptions for visiting dignitaries and balls with invites for noble families only, where King Regis tried to not-so-subtly find a suitor for his wayward bachelor of a son.  

You sighed at the promo flyer in your hands.  

 

 _Celebrate the 100_ _th_ _Anniversary of Insomnia High School, THE Crown City’s School for the Elite of the Elite, with_ _this once_ _-in-a-lifetime Spring Dance!_  

 _Theme: A Romantic Night in Altissia_  

 _Sample Imported Cuisine from the Most Famous City in_ _Accordo_ _, Dance to Traditional Altissian_ _Music, Take Pictures in a Real Life Gondola, and more!_

 _Ticket Prices for Singles:_ _3000_ _Yen_  

 _Ticket Prices for Couples:_ _55_ _00 Yen_  

 _Location: The Statesman Hotel_  

 _For More Information, or to Sign Up for the Dance Committee, See Mrs. Quintus or 3_ _rd_ _Year Student Council Rep., Derryck Gallus_  

 _Get Your Tickets Today and Experience A Romantic Night in_ _Altissia_ _!_  

 

Another dance you were going to miss out on, just like in middle school. There was no way you were going to have the nerve to ask Prompto out, to ask him to be your date to the dance—and you sure as hell knew that no one was going to ask  _you,_ much less  _him_. Not like you had the extra money for an expensive evening gown anyway—and not that you liked the thought of trying to squeeze your plus-sized body into one, besides. You sighed, flinging the flyer to the floor and plopping back on your bed, not ready to delve into homework just yet. You fished for your phone in your backpack, smiling when you saw a text from Prompto.  

 _From Prom <3: Hey bro u wanna do the arcade? _ 

 _From ________: Uh, maybe after I finish my homework?_  

 _From Prom <3: Aw c’mon NERD, just for a little while, pleeeeeease. Noct can’t, Gladio kidnapped him right after _ _school :_ _(_  

 _From _________: Only if you buy me some food first_  

 _From Prom <3: Ur on dude! _ _Whaddaya_ _want? I’m walking there now, can pick it up on the way._  

 _From ________: Idk man just some cheap noodles or something, not_ _tryna_ _break your bank_  

 _From Prom <3:  _ _Ffffffffff_ _what bank dude_  

 _From ________: I can Venmo you, I do get a little_ _Crownsguard_ _$ even though I’m a minor. I just save most of it._  

 _From Prom <3: I owe you my life _ 

 _From ________: How much are noodles?_  

 _From Prom <3: Wait _ _gimme_ _a sec_  

 _From Prom <3: Okay ur deluxe _ _noods_ _are 950 yen_  

 _From ________: Giving you twice that, get some for yourself! See you at the arcade._  

 _From ________: You’re my best friend EVER_  

 

Smiling and trying your hardest not to think of this as a  _date_ , you hopped back off of your bed, shrugging your shoes back on and throwing your backpack to the side—you were, actually, more than caught up on school; the homework you had come home with were  _next_ week's’ assignments. You bounded back down the stairs in just your school uniform, house keys, phone, and spare cash jangling around in your blazer pocket.  

“Where are you off to?” You heard your mother call from the kitchen.  

Your twin sisters were watching tv in the living room, and they ran to you, tackling you in hugs.  

“Don’t leave again already,” said Flora.  

“You just got home,” said Fauna.  

“Sorry guys, I have to go meet someone.” You pulled the little girls tight into your arms and they reluctantly let you go. “Mom,” you called. “I’m, uh. I’m needed at the Citadel. I won’t be too late.” 

“Are they feeding you?” she called.  

One less mouth in the house. “Yeah, I’ll be okay for dinner. Feed the kids first. See you in a few hours!” You bounded out of the front door and down the road to the city bus stop, feeling lighter than air.  

 

Two hours and two bowls of street noodles later, you and Prom were lighting up the 2-player dancing rhythm game, certainly nowhere near the high score but not on the lowest end, either. The too-cheerful bubblegum pop song finally ended, and at 85% completion, you and Prompto looked at each other, faces flushed and sweaty, laughing with delight. You were glad that you were already red from the exertion; because the way Prompto was grinning and laughing, the way his freckles were dancing in the flashing neon lights of the giant game console, the rumpled look of his undone school uniform—blazer slung over his messenger bag on a nearby stool, tie loosened, white collared shirt undone at the top of his neck and rolled up at the elbows—was making your face flush and your heart race for a different reason.  

“Nice job buddy! You’re much better at these than Noct,” Prompto smiled as he hopped off the raised platform, extending a hand to help you down.  

You shakily took his hand, lingering in the feel of your fingers against his palm probably a few seconds longer than necessary, before you let them fall. You looked up at Prompto, and he was all smiles at you, rubbing the back of his neck.  

“What game should we play next?” 

“Oh man, uh. I think I need a short break. Why don’t you play one those shooter games and I can...I can watch?” 

“Hell yeah, let me show off for you, bestie.” Prompto slung his arm around your shoulder and guided you to the back of the arcade, stopping in front of a large, sci-fi themed console, nasty-looking alien creatures crawling viciously on the sides, attacking men and women in space suits.  

“ _Tactical Warfare Three, Alien Invasion_! My favorite. I had the high score on it all last year but some asshole keeps putting me in number two. Let’s see if I can get the top spot again.” Prompto fished a token from his pocket and slid it into the game, choosing his options as the console booted to life.  

You drug a wayward stool from the empty snack counter over to Prompto and the game and watched as he began to play, eventually drawing out your cell phone and tapping away at some light quests on King’s Knight, looking up every so often to see Prompto’s progress and admire him while he wasn’t looking. You yawned. It was nearing six o’clock...time to be heading home, even though you didn’t want to. You slid from the stool and chuckled as a huge  _Game Over_ in dripping blood-red letters scrolled across the screen.  

Prompto groaned; he’d been a hundred points away from beating the top score. He looked back at you, sharp light features twisted in determination. “I’m gonna do it again. Gimme a fist-bump for luck, ____________.” 

 _Isn’t it usually a kiss for luck_ _?_ you thought shamelessly as you made a fist and touched your knuckles to his. Prompto grinned and turned back to the game, sliding his last token into the slot. Climbing off the stool, you set your phone on the seat. “Prom, gonna go use the bathroom. Let me know if my parents call, okay?” 

“Roger!” he chirped as he flexed his muscles and gripped the green plastic gun.  

You bounded off for the bathroom, returning minutes later. Prompto was done with the game, shoulders slumped—you guessed that his second attempt fell short yet again. But horror washed over you as you realized Prompto was looking at your phone. He was wearing one of his big, stupid, beautiful grins—the ones that could light up the sky better than any sun or moon or galaxy, and you felt your breath hitch as you approached.  

“Prom, what’s up? Did I get a message?” 

“Yeah, you did. We both did. Noct messaged us in the group chat.” 

“Oh.”  _Oh. Shit. SHIT._ _Prompto’s_ _name in my phone has...a_ heart _next to it._ You were mortified, wishing Ramuh would just strike you with lightning, or Ifrit would descend and drag you to a fiery eternal hell. Either would have suited you just fine, then. “Uh. Cool. Can I see...what he messaged us about?” You gingerly held out your hand for your phone, waiting for Prompto to give it back.  

He did, silently, still grinning, watching you like a hawk.  

You gulped and brought your phone from its sleep and looked at the message—something about Ignis making dinner tomorrow at his place for everyone. You flicked the screen back to _home_ and put it back in your blazer. You looked up. Prompto was still smiling—and melting you down to the core. “Wha-what is it, Prompto?” 

“I didn’t realize you felt that way about me.” 

 _Oh gods._ “What-what way, Prom?” you choked out, face heating up again.  

“Oh come on! Don’t tease me. A heart next to my name? I thought I was the only one who’d done that! You really  _do_ think of me as a best friend!”  

 _Oh_ _thank the_ _Astrals_ _I’m in love with a dumbass._  “Well, uh, duh! Prompto, please. You and Noct are like, the only friends I’ve got.” 

“Oh come on, you’ve got the whole Crownsguard, don’t tell me you’re not friends with them?” 

“I mean...work friends, I guess. But like. I’m not gonna come to the arcade with Nyx Ulric.” 

Prompto stuttered and laughed. “Okay, fair point. But hey, why no heart next to Noct’s name? Am I your  _bestest_ _friend_ and he’s just...meh?” Prompto raised an eyebrow quizzically.  

“Uh...no! That’s not it.”  _Shit, ___________ think..._ The thought came to you in seconds. “Because...I didn’t think it was proper for me to do it with Noct’s name, y’know, since I’m part of his personal guard, with me being a girl. Didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about us. But I figured...since  _you’re_ not royalty, or nobility, it’s okay. To uh. Have your name in my phone. Like that. Since we’re friends.”  

Prompto seemed more than placated as he nodded and let out a long, drawn-out “Ooooooh.” Then he brought out his phone and tapped away furiously. After a minute, he showed you his phone:  _your_ name in his contact list...except, with about ten heart emojis on either side of your name. “Look, now I’ve updated mine! I had a heart too, but...this seems better, yeah? More hearts mean more friendship!” 

The Astrals were literally trying to kill you, you were convinced of it now. You looked from the  _info_ screen to Prompto, who was beaming. Yep. Trying to kill you. “Well duh. But hey, can’t have you outdoing me. Now I  gotta  put more hearts.”  _Okay. At least he’s oblivious to this. I can do this. Don’t_ _wanna_ _hurt his feelings._ You edited Prompto’s contact name and showed him, his name having  _two_ heart emojis around it, then; and he laughed a happy “Hooray!” 

You smiled back even though your heart was in knots. But this...this was better than not having Prompto in your life at all. You checked the time again. “Shit, Prom, it’s been fun, but I really need to get back. I uh. Kinda told my parents I was somewhere else, so...” 

Prompto waved his hand. “Nah man, I get it. It’s cool. Let me ride the bus home with you, yeah? Can’t have a lady walking around here alone.” 

The bus was oddly quiet that evening, you and Prompto managing to get seats together for once. The first few minutes of the bus were spent in comfortable silence, and Prompto even put his head on your shoulder—always a welcome gesture that sent your blood pressure through the roof. But then— 

“Hey, did you see the announcement about the school dance?” 

 _Fuck._ You shrugged. “Yeah, I did. But I mean, I’m not going. I can’t dance anyway, and there’s no way anyone is going to ask me. Plus, the money for a dress...and I wouldn’t even look good. Lose-lose situation, bro.” 

Prompto sighed and made some sort of noise that you vaguely interpreted as disappointment, but you said nothing further, and Prom didn’t pursue the matter. He saw you off to the bus stop a few blocks from your house and then grabbed the gray line bus back across to the outer edges of the city.  

 

You, Prompto, and Noctis were eating lunch on the roof—a decidedly forbidden location that Noctis insisted on sneaking up to almost daily. You always ate your meal the fastest, in anticipation of having to make a quick run for it from teachers or class reps who might’ve found you. As you finished the last of your salad and few pieces of leftover sushi from the night before, Prompto decided to torture you with the “dance” subject again.  

“Hey Noct,” Prompto sang, teasing. “Got any girl in mind for the dance that’s coming up?” He winked.  

You shivered involuntarily.  

“Huh?” said Noctis. “Dude, seriously, I haven’t even thought about it. Probably won’t even go, unless Ignis makes me.” 

“Aw c’mon! There’s tons of cute girls in our year you can ask. Surely you’ve had your eye on one of them? What about that one noble...uh, whatsherface. Liliana?” 

You snorted, and both of the guys glanced in your direction. “Oh sure, she’s super pretty, but she’s got the personality of a wet blanket. And she’s super mean. Don’t bother, Noct. She’d only be into you for your status.” You shook your head.  

Noctis wrinkled his nose. “Hard pass then. Wait, she’s not mean to  _you_ , is she? I thought we took care of that problem last year?” 

“Yeah, when you blew up the bathroom?” Prompto laughed. “So hardcore.” 

You chuckled as you wrapped your empty bento box back up in the large handkerchief and shrugged. “I mean, sometimes. Mostly it’s just little shit now, y’know, snotty notes in my locker or pictures of whales inside my desk.” 

Prompto stiffened and scowled, and Noctis’ face turned almost purple. “What the hell? Why didn’t you tell us?” 

You smiled weakly. “Oh come on. You’ve got way more problems to worry about than some second-year bullying.” You waved a hand defensively. “It’s just me, no big deal. At least they don’t corner me in restroom stalls anymore.” 

“Fat jokes, seriously?” said Prompto, pained. “ _Whales_?” 

“Dude,” said Noctis, swallowing the last of his burger. “You’re super important, don’t even talk like that. You’re my Crownsguard.” 

“Yeah, it’s my job to get hurt. Not yours.” 

“Not like that!” Noctis almost roared. “I’ll...I’ll have her kicked out! I’ll send her family away for insulting the personal retinue of the prince.” Noctis’ soft dark features hardened, and there was a slight flash of red in his eyes.  

Shit. You’d only seen that look a handful of times before, in your almost-two years of living in Insomnia and knowing Noctis. It wasn’t a good thing. “Noct, wait, don’t...you don’t have to! She’s just some stupid bully, it’s fine. Besides,” you smirked, “y’know that science presentation we have coming up? The oral one, where you have to make a poster? Guess who has a whole board’s worth of whale pictures for her presentation on the marine life of Accordo?” 

Noctis stared, jaw slack in disbelief, as Prompto doubled over in laughter and fell off of the air-conditioning unit he was seated on.  

“Dude,” said Noctis. “That’s like...a big  _fuck you_.” 

Prompto was somehow managing to hyperventilate and cry at the same time. “Holy...holy fuckin shit...” he wheezed. “That’s like... _holy shit._..I can’t..!”  

Prompto continued to laugh and you beamed, pleased that you’d managed to catch your two best friends off guard and turn a hurtful situation around. You checked your watch. “Hey guys, lunch is almost over. Let’s head back down before we’re caught, yeah?” 

Prompto rolled his eyes. “Okay  _mom_.” 

“ _Hey._ I just don’t want to get in trouble.” 

“Yeah Prom, don’t push it,” laughed Noctis. “You’re already in detention today for like, an hour.” 

“What,  _again_?” You sighed. “Prompto, dude. I will like, give you some yen, bro. You can’t keep going negative on your lunch account.” 

Prompto exchanged a weird look with Noctis but he just smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, getting up from the ground where he’d fallen in the fit of laughter minutes before. “It’s cool, I’m picking up more hours at the photo studio next week. I’ll be able to pay it off soon.” 

The five-minute warning bell rang and the three of you bolted through the roof access door and down the stairs, you trailing in the rear. You and Prompto made it to class with a minute to spare, breathless and laughing, waving to Noct as he entered his class next door.  

 

The three of you met up in the courtyard immediately after classes were over. You’d been thinking about an idea since lunch, and even though you were nervous, you felt mostly confident about broaching the subject with them.  

“Hey, uh, guys,” you said, once you were all a short distance from the school entrance.  

“What’s up?” said Prompto, throwing his arm around your shoulder.  

“Wait, shouldn’t you be in detention?” Noctis raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh shit I forgot,” said Prompto. He released you and turned to go. 

“Wait! Wait, before you go, Prompto. Uh...um. I was wondering...I mean, Noct, since...there isn’t anyone you’ve thought of for the dance...and uh...I know for a fact no one is going to ask me...and Prom, unless you have a date already...” Your voice trailed.  

Prompto scoffed a quiet, “Yeah, right...” 

“Uh...I was wondering...if the two of you...would want to go with me. Like...the three of us. As friends. Go to the dance as friends. The three of us. Uh. A friend date.” You’d been staring at the concrete the entire pitch, but you made yourself look up to meet the twin blue-eyed gazes in front of you.  

Prompto’s eyes were wide, a slight flush coming to his pretty freckled cheeks.  

Noctis leveled his gaze at you, his features softening after several seconds. “Hey,” he said. “That’s a great idea. I wouldn’t normally go to one of these things, but come to think of it, Ignis might make me go anyway. It is the hundredth anniversary of the school as we know it, I’m sure I’ll have to make some dumbass speech. But after that, we’re hanging out and eating _all_ the food. We can totally be dates.” He slugged Prompto on the shoulder. “You cool with it, buddy?”  

Prompto opened and closed his mouth a few times before he nodded furiously. “Of-of course! Dude! That’s like, the best idea ever.” He grinned one of his heart-stopping grins. “Man.  _Two_ dates. Am  _I_ a lucky guy or what.” He winked at you. “And what will those stupid bullies say? The prince on your arm? They’ll melt through the floor.” 

You chuckled nervously, but Noctis gave you a warm smile. You knew that he’d do everything in his power to make you feel like you belonged, to make you feel worthy of going to a dance. And knowing Prompto was going to be on the other side of you...well. You knew that life wasn’t going to get much better.  

“I’ll get Ignis to secure the tickets,” said Noct, as Prompto jogged furiously back to the school to meet his punishment. “And I’m sure I’ll have to have a suit made. Uh. What color will your dress be so my tie and corsage and stuff can match?” 

 _Holy shit_. Noctis was your friend, and yeah, you had the hots for Prompto, but...but this was  _Noctis._  Who was, in your own words,  _pretty._  Not to mention, the  _prince,_  that you technically  _worked_ for. Your face must’ve started to reflect the sudden onset of anxiety, because he put a hand on your shoulder.  _Gods_ , he was so warm.  

“Hey, I know that look. Don’t freak out. You’re not like, breaking any protocols or anything. Besides, if I go with you, I won’t have to have Specs or Gladio chaperone me inside. You’ll be my pretty built-in security detail.” Noctis smiled and your heart clenched.  

“Uh,” you felt your face flush. “I mean...I  _should_ wear the royal color, but...I also really like blue...” 

“Then wear blue, dude. I should have a suit by this weekend, and I’ll text you the color of my tie and pocket square and stuff so you can match the dress color. Sound cool? And hey. You can totally expense the cost of your dress to the Citadel. Since, y’know. You’ll be my official guard for the evening.” The prince winked devilishly. “I’ll have Ignis give you the credit card the next time you’re scheduled there for training.” 

“Yeah, Noct. Sounds good. And...thanks.” 

“Your welcome, __________. Thanks for asking me out.” 

You choked on air as you sputtered an exasperated “I did  _not_ ask you out!” 

Noctis laughed, and he turned with a wave, walking to Ignis’ car that had just arrived.  

 

The school week came and went, and Saturday found you and Prompto having an afternoon coffee at a shop halfway between your house and the Citadel. You’d had Crownsguard training that morning, early—seriously, was Cor Leonis  _trying_ to kill you by making you be at the palace for six am?! Training had ended close to twelve, and Ignis had caught you after your shower, giving you a swatch of bright blue fabric and the royal bank card so you could go dress shopping—along with a firm lecture on what would happen if any unofficial purchases were made on the king’s dime. You’d never been so nervous holding a piece of plastic in your short, insignificant life. Prompto had texted you about dress and tux shopping; since Noctis was in his old room in the Citadel, getting his clothes tailor-made, it was up to you and Prompto to head out into Insomnia alone to find your formal attire.  

The first few shops on the short list Ignis had given you (gods bless that man) proved to be less than successful, the shops either not having a dress in the exact color, or—infinitely more mortifying to  _you—_ not carrying a single gown in your size.  

So here you were, a late lunch of coffee and half a sandwich near three in the afternoon, and around the corner from the next shop on the list. You sipped the last of your plain Americano and rose to throw your garbage away.  

“C’mon Prom,” you sighed. “Let’s hit the next shop. I feel better now after some coffee and food.” 

He grunted but rose, following you to the trash can.  

“Hey, what’s wrong?” 

Prompto sighed. “It’s just...that lady at the last shop was so mean about it. What’s up with these places, anyway? Don’t they know girls like you deserve to wear beautiful dresses?” 

You felt your face heat up as you chucked the empty coffee cup and paper plate. You looked up at Prompto, and he was frowning as he tossed his trash. “Hey, Prom, don’t--don’t be so upset. It’s fine. I’m used to bitches like her. I deal with them every day at school.” You shrugged. “Maybe this was a bad idea anyway, I should just text Noct and tell him I’ll sit out the dance part, just be his guard in my fatigues...” 

“No!” Prompto grabbed your hands and held them to his chest. Your heart started slamming against your ribcage as you met his tearful gaze. “We  _will_ find you a beautiful dress for the dance, if it takes all night, ___________! You deserve it.” He bit his lip. “Besides, I...I want to go with you and Noct. I want us all together there. I want you to wear something that makes you feel like the amazing girl you are.” 

You choked back a sob as you flung yourself into Prompto’s arms for a crushing hug. He squeezed back, the both of you crying softly, pulling away after a few minutes (and awkward stares from the other patrons), full of resolve to find the perfect dress and suit for yourselves.  

As you stepped out into the street and began to walk the long block to the next dress shop on the list, dark clouds suddenly gathered overhead, out of nowhere, and the heavens opened up on the two of you, drenching you in a sudden torrential downpour. 

“Shit!” Prompto cried as he grabbed your hand and ran, tugging you along with him, not stopping until you’d rounded the corner and found the place you were looking for.  

You and the blond ducked inside, hands on knees, dripping wet and gasping for breath. You stood straight a couple of minutes later, ringing out your shirt on the unfortunate carpet of the upscale shop. You blinked through wet, stringy strands of hair at Prompto, who was equally as soaked, but his expression was one you couldn’t quite read, and gods, was his face  _red_.  

“Prompto?” you asked gently. “What’s wrong dude?” 

“Ah, uh, um, uh,” was his response, and then he turned his head so sharply you feared he’d given himself whiplash. “You’re...uh...it’s your shirt...you’re...wearing white...” 

Horrified, you looked down at yourself, and sure enough, the cups of your beige bra were fully on display through the dripping white fabric. You violently shrieked and slapped your arm across your chest as Prompto gave a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his wet hair. 

“So-sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to...I mean...” 

You shook your head. “It’s okay, Prom. It’s fine. Uh. We should get the attention of the salespeople, yeah?” You looked around, eyes finally landing on a petite girl by one rack of dresses, straightening them. “Miss, uh! Excuse me, hi...” 

The girl turned and gasped, rushing up to you and your soaked companion. “Astrals, are you two all right?” 

“Sorry, sorry, we uh, we were outside and there was this sudden storm...” You motioned to the dark weather outside. “Sorry about the carpet, and uh...my shirt is...kinda see through right now...” 

The saleswoman looked from you to Prompto’s downcast glance, his cheeks still dusted with flushed embarrassment. “I see,” she said, gently. “Don’t worry about the carpet. Come to the back. I’m sure we have something to help you.” 

You and Prompto followed her to the  _employees only_ area, where she brought out two oversize terrycloth robes. You and Prompto sighed at the warmth and the absorbent material, and she led you back out to the store.  

“Now then.” She smiled. “Can I help you, or...?” 

“Actually, we are supposed to be here.” You dug the limp fabric sample from your shorts pocket. “Do you have a dress in size ____, in this color? Or very near it, anyway.”  

The young woman took the silk swatch in her hand and stared. “Actually, yes! I do believe we carry this color. And don’t worry. All of our gowns are made in-house, by hand. We can make any size you need.”  

“Astrals, finally!” You smiled and looked at Prompto, who was gazing at you, grinning so hard that he looked like he was about to burst. “I knew it! I  _knew_ there had to be one reliable dress store around here. And uh. Prompto needs a white tuxedo, with this color tie and pocket square. And corsage.” 

The woman smiled as she rounded the small reception counter and began to scribble notes on a pad. “Not to worry. If you’ll wait for a few more minutes, our seamstress will be back from her break and she can size the two of you up. Would you like to look through our look book to get ideas on styles?” 

You and Prompto looked at each other again, nodding.  

“Yes,” you said confidently. “We need to pick out complementing outfits.” 

Prompto put his arm around you and squeezed. 

 

One month later, you and Prompto were back in the small designer shop, getting the first initial fitting of the dress and tuxedo. Prompto’s suit was a silky white, with a blue bowtie, vest, and pocket square. You’d insisted on the golden epaulets on the shoulders of the jacket, while he’d chosen the icy blue sash (detailed in a white filigree pattern) that fit across his midsection, attaching from the front of the right epaulet to the back. Sewn in with his pocket square were black- and blue-dyed chocobo feathers. He’d gotten blue suede shoes to match. The pants were fitted, almost like skinny jeans, and tailored to his five-eight slender frame; and white gloves finished the outfit off. When Prompto stepped into the suit for the first time and looked into the three-way mirror, he blushed at himself, hardly recognizing the gangly teen staring back at him.  

“Wow,” Prompto breathed.  

The designer and clerk circled him and smiled.  

“Exquisite,” said the designer, his Tenebraen accent reminiscent of Ignis. “You will certainly turn heads at your school dance. Where did you say you attend?” 

“Oh, uh. Insomnia High? It’s the hundredth anniversary of the modern school building, so they’re having this big Altissia-themed celebration.” 

“Insomnia High? Is that where Prince Noctis attends as well?” The woman from the month prior was tilting her head in curiosity.  

“Uh, yeah-yeah!” Prompto stuttered, rubbing his neck nervously. “Uh, I’m actually...I’m pretty good friends with him. And the girl who’s with me, ___________ ...she’s in his personal Crownsguard as a medic.” 

The designer gasped. “I say! I had no idea that we were sewing clothing for the personal friends and retainers of the crown prince himself!” He turned to the clerk. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Hey, Pablo, don’t get mad at me! I had no idea!” The clerk huffed. “Man. I’ve always wanted to meet the prince...lucky kids.” She puffed out her cheeks. “Speaking of Miss __________, where is she?” 

Prompto was still turning circles on the raised dais in the back of the shop, admiring the expensive outfit and getting more and more excited for the school-wide celebration. 

  

You, on the other hand, didn’t even want to leave the fitting room where your dress designer was zipping you into the soft blue tulle-laden floor-length gown. It was off-shoulder—meaning you had to wear a strapless bra, a contraption devised by Ifrit himself, but the designer that was working with you had found a very expertly-crafted one with strong wires in it, reinforced by whalebone—you'd snorted at the irony—that came down to the top of your abdomen. The collar of the dress was bedazzled with thousands of diamonds and sapphires, the top of it almost looking like ivy draping over an old cottage rooftop in its uneven dripping pattern. The dress was cinched at the waist, accentuating the curves of your wide hips, with a jewel-encrusted belt that mirrored the top of the gown. The dress was all lightweight tulle and silk; its long sleeves were made from just one layer of tulle, giving them a lighter shade of blue than the rest of the gown, and it billowed out around your wrists just before being gathered into jewel-encrusted cuffs. Your personal designer had added an extra touch upon learning that you were a Crownsguard member—she'd added a thin tulle cape attached to the back of the dress, and it the royal Lucian crest was sewn in gold on the airy fabric, tiny pearls surrounding the elegant skull, weighing the cape down so that it could be seen in its entirety.  

You sighed in satisfaction. The makeup artist and hairdresser that Ignis ( _again,_  gods bless that man) had personally selected for you had come to this first fitting as well, sweeping your hair up into an intricate braided updo, leaving a few select strands to frame your face, ringed with curls. He had transformed you into someone you barely recognized...gods, you were  _definitely_ keeping that blue lipstick after this was all said and done. Large diamond studs and a solitaire diamond pendant completed the outfit, along with blue heels— Louboutins  to be exact (you’d called Ignis last week and  _begged_ him, though he didn’t take much convincing, as ten thousand yen was apparently pocket change for the crown).  

“Perfection. You are a dream,” said the petite designer in her elegant Tenebraen accent. “A true beauty. Your inner radiance shines through like the sun peeking through the clouds after a hurricane.” 

You scoffed a little and laughed nervously. “I...I don’t think I’d go  _that_ far. I mean, I barely look like myself. This fancy me is great, but underneath, I’m still...still the regular me.” You sighed, the old self-loathing suddenly creeping into what supposed to have been a fun Saturday afternoon with Prompto.  

The designer narrowed her eyes. “No.  _This_ is still the regular you. Come, you can talk to me. What is it that you don’t like about yourself?” 

You rolled your eyes as you gave the woman a once over. Gods, she was so thin and wispy that you could’ve snapped her like a toothpick. Pale, soft elven features, framed by long, perfect hair, small button nose holding up cute pink cat-eye glasses... “It’s just...like you. People like  _you_ can wear anything. You can walk into any store on the planet and find something that fits, something that is trendy, something that looks good on you and makes you feel good. Girls like me...it’s not so easy. And the rest of the world makes sure we know it.” You shifted from foot to foot, wobbling in shoes you weren’t used to wearing.  

The designer cracked a small smile. “Ah, Miss ___________. I believe this is a good time to reveal to you my last name.” 

You turned sharply. “What?” 

“You know your fashion, else you would not have had such a good eye helping Mr. Argentum coordinate his raiment, or knowing explicitly what you desired for yourself.” 

“I mean, I’ve flipped through my fair share of  _Vogue Lucis,_  and occasionally  _Vogue Altissia_ , or whatever my mom keeps on the coffee table, but...” 

“My dear, I am Adrienne Eastwater. Surely you must know that I cater  _exclusively_ to women of your particular size? Women like me get boring. I much prefer to dress big, bold goddesses such as yourself.”  

“Oh...holy fucking shit.  _The_ Adrienne Eastwater? I must be dreaming. I can’t...you can’t be real. You’re joking.” 

Adrienne laughed, voice airy and light, laughter resounding through the private room like tiny bells. “I assure you I am not joking. Now come. I’m sure your boyfriend is already dressed.” 

 _Boyfriend_.  _How I wish that were true..._ “Oh-oh!” You stuttered nervously. “He’s not...you mean Prompto? We’re not...we’re just friends! He and Noct and I are going to the dance as friends. Well. I’ll be doing double duty as Noct’s guard, but. It’s cool. It’s my job. But Prompto, uh. Just a friend. Like my best friend.” You hoped the heavy contour on your face was hiding the blush.  

Mrs. Eastwater just tilted her head and hummed, then grabbed your hand and helped you walk out of the private fitting room and out into the shop.  

Prompto was off of the raised dais that was in front of the mirrors; he was in front of his own designer, who was circling him and making little tucks and marks on his suit with pins and fabric chalk. The designer noticed you first, and his mouth went a little slack, and whatever he’d been saying to Prompto filtered out into nothingness. He regained his composure seconds later and whispered to the blond, and Prompto turned just as Mrs. Eastwater was helping you up onto the dais in front of the mirrors.  

Prompto’s jaw fell to the floor and he  _froze_. Like honest-to-gods froze, as if he’d been hit with an ice attack. Your face burned red under his piercing stare, but—as much as he was staring at you, you were staring back at him. You weren’t sure how you were going to make it a whole night with Prompto looking like  _that_. He looked as much like a prince as Noctis—and perhaps even more so, in your eyes. His hair had been fluffed up a little in its messy, choppy layers; and  _Astrals,_ the white pants hugging his long, lean legs...the tuxedo jacket and vest smooth and tight against his slender frame. You ran your eyes again from his blue dress shoes to the tops of his shoulders, admiring the regal epaulets...when suddenly, Prompto, whose blue eyes had gone wide with shock, suddenly turned away and cast his eyes downward.  

“I, I forgot!” he squeaked.  

“Prompto, uh...forgot what?” 

“Isn’t it bad luck to see your date in her dress before the dance?!” Prompto’s cheeks were flushed pink.  

The adults in the room snickered and cast knowing glances at each other.  

You registered his concern for a brief moment before you nearly doubled over with laughter. “Prom...Prompto! You silly thing, that’s  _weddings!_  This is a  _school dance._  It’s not that serious, dude.” 

“Well what if I get bad luck at my wedding?” Prompto huffed, eyes still gazing at the floor. “Can’t risk it. Assuming I even get married.” 

“Oh Prom. Stop. C’mon, you’re not going to have bad luck at your wedding. Come up here, let the designers look at us together. Stand with me.” You stretched your hand out to the pouty blond. 

Prompto thought for a minute, then complied, raising his head to look at you once more and mouth again forming a small  _o_ , as if he’d forgotten you weren’t wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He scrambled up to the platform and stood next to you, watching your dual reflections in the three-way mirror.  

“So...um...” Prompto started as the designers and the seamstresses circled you, looking for minor patches and tucks and alterations to be made. “Do you...do you like this? This suit.” 

 _Yeah, I like it enough to want to tear it off of you._ “It’s...it’s breathtaking, Prom. Honestly. You look so good in it. I bet...I bet all the girls are gonna want to dance with you.” 

Prompto’s ears burned red under your words. He stuttered out a reply. “Well...I...I don’t know about that, buddy. But listen.  _You_. All those bitches at school are gonna see you in a different light, I can say that much.” 

You chuckled and shrugged. “Nah, I doubt it. I won’t be paying attention to them, anyway. There’s only two people I’ll have my eyes on that night.” You smiled up at Prompto and grabbed his hand. “I wouldn’t have wanted to go to this dance with anyone else other than you and Noct. I’m so lucky you two are my best friends.” 

Prompto gripped your hand and smiled back, the grin melting your heart, as it always did. “Of course, __________. I feel the same way.” 

“You’re going to dance with me, right? Ignis has been teaching me how to waltz.” 

“Aw man, and here I was spending a lot more time on the dance games at the arcade,” Prompto mock-whined, and you laughed. “Of course I’m going to dance with you, silly. Why even go if I don’t get to dance with my best friend?” 

“You gonna ask Noctis to dance? If you two waltz, then who leads?” 

Prompto burst out into laughter and shook his head. “I don’t know, dude. I’ll have to ask him.” 

You asked Mrs. Eastwater to take full-body pictures of you and Prompto using your cell phone, and as you were changing into your street clothes, you sent the pictures to Ignis.  

 

Ignis was with Noctis and his tailors in the Citadel when the notification  _pinged_ on his phone. He left it unopened for a minute while he advised on Noct’s outfit, then went to the desk where it was charging and opened the message.  

Noctis heard a small  _thud_ and turned his head to look in Ignis’ direction. The adviser was staring open-mouthed at his phone screen, eyes wide and cheeks slightly flushed.  

“Specs, what’s wrong?” Noctis brushed away the people surrounding him, closing the short distance to the desk in seconds.  

“I...  _look at them_ ,” Ignis croaked. “Astrals, they’re beautiful.” 

Noctis raised an eyebrow and lifted Ignis’ phone from the desk and zoomed in on the high-resolution picture. “Holy shit. Ignis. She picked that out herself?” 

“And she decided on certain accoutrements on Prompto’s attire, as well.” 

“Holy shit,” Noctis repeated, eyes having not left the photo, and despite himself, he blushed. “They...they look like royalty.”  _And the ultimate power couple. If only Prompto would tell her..._   

 

The weekend of the dance had finally come, and you were, for lack of a better term, an absolute nervous wreck. The dance started at five o’clock at the upscale hotel in downtown Insomnia, and it was already one in the afternoon. You heard a knock on the door and zoomed downstairs—you were already in your strapless bra, a button-up shirt, and lounge shorts. You opened the door to the professional hair and makeup artist that Ignis had hired.  

“Hi!” said the flamboyant hairdresser. “Ready to go from drab to fab?” 

You giggled as you opened the door to let him in. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” You led him to the hallway bathroom, bringing up pictures on your phone of how your test makeup and hair had been at your initial gown fitting at the dress shop downtown.  

“Ah, yes, I remember how we did it,” he said as he wheeled in his suitcase full of supplies. “And Mr. Scientia said on the phone that we’re completing the look with a flower crown?” 

“Yeah!” You were actually really excited about the flower crown that you’d designed and assembled yourself. “The crown itself is made from dragon horn, and it has cockatrice feathers, mandrake flowers, gladiolus, iris, and hollyhocks.” 

The hairdresser’s eyes sparkled as he began to comb your hair. After a minute he leaned over to plug in his curling iron. “You’re a healer in Prince Noctis’ Crownsguard, then? Cockatrice feathers and mandrake flowers are known for their healing properties.” 

You nodded, blushing a little. “Wow, you’re pretty smart.” 

He shrugged. “Eh, I know my herbs and flowers, that’s all. Paid attention in college.” He pinned up the top layer of your hair. “Now, in order to incorporate the crown, I was thinking of altering your hairstyle just a little bit, like this...” 

 

At four o’clock, your mom was zipping you into your dress, and the doorbell rang. You immediately started sweating buckets, praying to the gods that your makeup was going to last. You heard your dad open the door and begin to talk excitedly, inviting the guests in. You heard your two little sisters start to make a racket, too—then the two of them burst into your room and were caught by your mom, one on each arm, and the girls screamed out in typical twin unison-- 

“Prince Noctis is here! Prince Noctis is here!” Flora and Fauna sang.  

Your mom smiled and then gazed at you, putting a warm hand on your shoulder. “You look beautiful, and I am so proud of you. Let me go down the stairs and get ready with the camera. Come on, girls. Leave your sister to walk in peace.” 

“You look like a princess,” said Flora.  

“Are you and Prince Noctis gonna kiss?” asked Fauna.  

“What about your friend Prompto? He’s here too,” Flora continued.  

“ _Hush,_ get out of here you brats!” you laughed through flushing cheeks as your mom dragged your giggling sisters downstairs.  

You waited another minute or two, adjusted your flower crown one last time, and walked to the top of the stairs.  

 

It was a damn good thing your parents had seen fit to install handrails, because as soon as Noctis and Prompto came into view, your small chubby fingers were white-knuckled against the light oak wood.  _Six_ , you weren’t sure how you were going to make it that night. Even though you’d seen Prompto in his suit before, it was no less dazzling. Prompto was a vision in white and blue, golden epaulettes on broad shoulders, flower crown resting sideways over his perfectly styled blond hair. You could see chocobo feathers nestled among the flowers, and you laughed quietly to yourself.  

Noctis, however, was a whole other meal altogether. If Prompto was daylight, he was pure night, as was his namesake. His suit was jet black, and subtly pinstriped, as was evident by the silk stripes against matte black fabric. His tie and pocket square matched the blue of your dress and the blue accoutrements on Prompto’s suit. There was a blue sash across his chest, connecting golden shoulder epaulettes of his own. A short cape hung from his shoulders, and he also donned a flower crown, with little silver stars on black sticks poking up at odd angles, mimicking his hair. He and Prompto were talking with your parents and siblings warmly—but your father caught your eye first, and coughed, causing your two friends to drag their eyes to the top of the stairs.  

Noct’s mouth outright fell all the way open, and you couldn’t help but blush as you watched his pupils dilate as you began to shakily descend the staircase. Prompto’s face went ten shades of white, then red—as if his body couldn’t decide what emotion to feel. You kept your face neutral as your mother snapped several shots of you coming down the stairs—and then once you were at the bottom, Noct and Prompto nearly pushed each other out of the way in order to get to you.  

“Holy Six—Astrals, ____________, you look so beautiful,” Noctis let out all in one shaky breath. “You look...you look like a princess.” 

You blushed and looked down. “I guess I clean up okay, right? Ha ha.” 

“I’m serious, ___________. Look at me.”  

You raised your eyes to your best friend. Noct’s intense gaze was threatening to melt you through the floor—and honestly, you wouldn’t have minded. Noctis was beautiful, and to have him staring at you so in awe was boosting your confidence by infinite levels. Time seemed to slow down, and somewhere in the background you heard the clicking of a camera. Noctis leaned to the side and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.  

He stepped back—there was a faint blush to his sharp, dark features, but he was grinning big and wide. “I’m so glad you asked us to do this. I wouldn’t have done it if you and Prom weren’t with me.” Noctis stepped back and punched Prompto lightly on the shoulder. “Ready for some pictures, bro?” 

“Hu-huh? Oh, uh, sure.” Prompto set his camera bag down on the ground and dug out his camera, turning it on and fiddling with the settings, finally handing it to your dad and instructing him how to use some of the basic functions.  

 

Your parents moved the three of you around for fifteen minutes— _Here, stand in front of the fireplace—hold your sister’s hand—link arms with His Highness and_ _Prompto_ _—goofy faces!—_ until you were rolling your eyes and your face was cramping up from smiling.  

“Mom, Dad—there's going to be a million pictures of us at the dance anyway—isn't this enough? It’s almost four-thirty,” you whined as you moved towards the front door.  

“Okay! It’s just...we’re so excited for you, honey,” your dad said with a smile. He looked to Noctis and Prompto with a twinkle in his eye. “I’m trusting you guys with my baby, y’hear?” 

You rolled your eyes again. “Stop being so embarrassing!” 

Noct just laughed. “Glad to see it’s a universal dad thing.” 

The three of you stepped outside to the waiting limousine. Your little sisters tugged on the hem of Noct’s suit jacket and he bent down, smiling.  

“Yes?” 

“You have to treat our sister like a Princess,” said Flora.  

“Or she’ll be really sad and we’ll never forgive you,” Fauna continued.  

Noct smiled wide and lazy. “Hey, I  _always_ treat your sister like a princess, so don’t worry, all right? She’s my best friend.” 

“When we’re older, will you be  _our_ date to a school dance?” they said in unison, giggling.  

You couldn’t help but blush at Noct’s words. Sure, the two of you were very casual with each other—but deep down, you’d never forgotten just who Noctis was. And it was true—Noct had always treated you with respect and dignity, defending you against school bullies, being there when you needed a friendly shoulder to cry on.  

Behind you, you caught a snippet of conversation between your father and Prompto.  

“So,” your dad drawled. “You’re Prompto, eh? ___________ talks an awful lot about you!” He clapped Prompto on his decorated shoulder.  

Your eyes went wide with panic and before your dad could continue to embarrass you further, you set the grass around his feet on fire, causing him to yelp and dance around, stomping out the flames. You caught his gaze in a death glare and he quickly changed the subject, opting to talk to Prompto about photography instead as he walked with the three of you to the limo.  

 

It was right at that moment that a sleek black Regalia pulled to the curb behind the limo that was parked in front of your house. You stared in awe as Clarus Amicitia climbed out of the driver’s seat, went around to the back passenger’s side, and opened the door to let out King Regis.  

“Aw,  _shit_ ,” said Noctis. “I can’t believe my dad’s here.” 

Prompto squeaked as he quickly gripped Noct’s shoulder for balance. “Dude, you didn’t tell me he was coming!” 

“I didn’t know either!” hissed Noctis. “Ugh, so embarrassing.” 

“Hey, no royal favors here, buddy! If my dad gets to embarrass me tonight, then so does yours,” you giggled as you elbowed the prince lightly in the ribs.  

Noctis just groaned.  

You and Prompto bowed as the king approached you and your family.  

“Hello, _________ family!” Regis boomed, eyes twinkling. Clarus hung back at the Regalia, leaning against the front passenger door with his arms folded. “Noct, my boy, you look dashing! And young Prompto! Who would have thought! You look very handsome as well!” 

“Oh, uh! Thank you, Your Majesty, sir!” Prompto stuttered as he stood.  

“And—could it be? __________? My dear, you’re as pretty as a picture!” Regis stepped close to you and put his finger under your chin, causing you to rise from your bow and look him in the eye. “Stunning.” He turned to Noctis. “You’ve got quite the pretty friend here, Noctis.” 

You blushed heavily, eyes flickering from Noctis to the king to Prompto to the rest of your family, whose eyes were bulging out of their heads.  

“Dad,” Noct finally groaned. “What’s the deal? We have to get to the hotel.” 

“You didn’t think you were going to escape today, did you, son?” Regis smirked. “I’m here for pictures, of course!” 

 

Another fifteen minutes later, you, Noctis, and Prompto finally managed to escape Regis, leaving your family to scramble to entertain him and Clarus. The three of you breathed a sigh of relief as soon as you were tucked into the back of the limo.  

“Good  _grief_ ,” you lamented as soon as the car was speeding down the street out of your neighborhood. “I thought we’d never get out of there!” 

“Home free,” sighed Noctis happily.  

Prompto said nothing, only stared out of the window, face drawn tight with emotion.  

“Hey,” you said quietly. “Prom. What’s wrong?” 

He blinked and turned to you, face turning the cutest shade of pink. “No-nothing. It’s just...I’m glad you included me in this. And the doting parents, the embarrassing dads, the annoying siblings...what I wouldn’t give for that, sometimes, y’know?” Prompto shrugged.  

“Oh—oh, Prompto, I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to make you feel left out or anything! You know that my family is your family. And...and me and Noct,  _we’re_ your family, too!” 

“Yeah bro,” said Noct as he reached his arm behind you to squeeze Prompto’s shoulder. “Our embarrassing dads are your embarrassing dads.” Noctis laughed.  

Prompto sniffed back a few tears and nodded, smiling. “Yeah. Uh, thanks. You guys really do make me feel like family.” 

“Whatever it takes to make you happy,” Noctis sighed.  

“Oh—hey, we should take a selfie! For the ‘gram,” Prompto grinned.  

“Ugh, more pictures,” Noct whined, but pressed himself close to you and Prompto whipped out his phone, taking a burst of selfies in succession.  

 

The dance itself passed by without much incident—there were a few glaives standing guard outside of the hotel, but inside, there were only students and teacher chaperones. There were elaborate sets all around the ballroom—you'd never been to Altissia, but the drama department had done a damn good job of recreating the iconic architecture with cardboard and foam and paint. The food was imported and amazing, and the large, life-size gondola in the corner had line that was wrapped around half of the room. A small orchestra was playing in the corner, classical music by some of Accordo’s most famous musicians. The three of you had managed to sneak in without much incident, but once you were inside, almost every eye was zeroed in on you. The principal drug Noctis up on stage, where he dutifully pulled index cards from his pocket and made the most boring speech a teenager could possibly make—no doubt Ignis had written it for him. Prompto stood there snickering as he live-streamed the entire thing.  

Once Noctis was done with his social obligations, he was stuck to your and Prompto’s side the entire night. He grabbed Prompto for a waltz first, leaving you to gaze at them in wonder. Noctis and Prompto moved fluidly across the dance floor, smiling shyly at each other but never breaking each other's gaze. Noctis was in the lead, and Prompto, surprisingly, didn’t misstep once. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that they looked like a couple. The thought made your heart clench in a strange, good way. If Prompto was gay, and if you couldn’t have him—then Noctis was the only one who deserved him.  

The song ended and the two boys stepped away from each other and bowed formally—then immediately high-fived and threw their arms around each other, laughing and joking as they made their way back over to you. You’d found a nice, quiet chair along the back wall where you could observe and eat without gathering too much attention.  

“Hey!” said Prompto as he skipped over to you, Noctis in close follow. “Can I dance with you?” 

“Aw, no fair Prom,” Noct whined. “Prince should get first dibs.” 

“You could learn some patience, Your Highness,” you teased as you took Prompto’s gloved hand and let him lead you out onto the dance floor.  

You’d practiced several simple waltzes with Ignis over the past couple of months, so even though you normally had two left feet, you were confident that Iggy’s perfect teaching would be enough to spare you from tripping over yourself. You tried not to shiver or blush too much as you curtsied to Prompto as he bowed, stepping close to you as the orchestra started up again. He gripped your hand and your wide waist in his long, slender fingers—and the two of you began to move.  

It took everything in you to stare into Prompto’s eyes during the dance—mentally, you were reciting poetry, counting chocobos jumping over a fence, and envisioning ticking metronomes in order to keep your feet moving in time. Prompto led you flawlessly, weaving in and around the other couples like the two of you were the only ones on the floor.  

“I really liked watching you and Noct,” you said with a smile, as Prompto dipped you and brought you back up. “You two look really good together.” 

“Ha! Thanks dude. Guess it answers your question of who leads,” he laughed. “Shoulda figured.” 

“I’m surprised though—he's so lazy, I thought for sure he would make you lead.” 

“Pffffft, you’re not wrong. I’m sure if we were like, in private, he’d make me do all the work. But it was fun. I like dancing with Noct. And I like dancing with you. And um, I know I’ve said it before, but I was kinda embarrassed to say it in front of your family and whatever, but...you look really nice tonight. Like, like Noct said. You really do look like a princess. And I’m so glad that I’m here with you, dancing, and stuff. I feel really special, and...and it feels good knowing that I’m helping you feel special, too. ” 

You flushed and looked to your hand that was on Prompto’s shoulder. Your emotions were threatening to overwhelm you, but you somehow managed to keep them in check. “Thanks Prom,” you said quietly. “I’m so lucky to have a friend like you, and Noct. I’m glad I’m here with y’all.” 

Prompto grinned brightly and spun you away from him, then pulled you back close as the song ended. He stepped away and bowed as you curtsied again, and he led you back to Noct, who was politely declining a dance with one of your peers.  

“Hey, is it finally my turn?” Noctis turned his back to the girl, who looked only sad until she locked her gaze with yours, eyes darting back and forth between you and Noctis, shell- shocked with jealousy and mild hate. You smirked just a teeny bit at her as you allowed Noct to take your hand and lead you to the floor.  

Prompto was a good dancer, but Noct, having been born and bred into formal training, carried himself so differently than your other best friend. You could feel so many eyes on you as he led you in a slightly more complex waltz than you’d danced with Prompto, and you felt your face getting hotter the longer you gazed into Noct’s piercing blue eyes as you fell into his lead.  

“So, what’s it like getting to dance with a prince?” Noct teased, lips curling into a smirk. “Everyone’s looking at us, you know. Imagine the gossip come Monday.” 

“Eh, who cares. They all gossip about us anyway. But hey, whatever gives me more whale pictures for my presentation.” 

That drew a cute snort of laughter from Noct, who stepped away from you and motioned for you to follow suit—the two of you circled each other with only your palms touching, in alternating circles.  

“You’re the prettiest girl here,” said Noct as the two of you drew together again, front to front, rejoining hands. “I mean that.” 

You sniffed hard, trying not to cry so that your eye makeup wouldn’t run. “You don’t have to flatter me, Noct. I’m just so happy that I’m here with you and Prompto. Back at my old school, I was never asked to dances, and I never had the nerve to ask anyone myself, even friends, so...” 

“Empty flattery is reserved for stuffy old nobles only,” Noctis laughed. “With you, I mean it.” 

“Well, to answer your question...it’s pretty wonderful.  _You’re_ wonderful, Noctis, in case anyone hasn’t told you lately.” 

“Yeah?” The prince’s blue eyes sparkled in the dim, atmospheric lighting of the ballroom. Everything else seemed to fade away, and you felt like a fairytale heroine.  

You nodded, blushing, but not really minding. Underneath the cool guy façade was just your friend, Noctis. “Yeah,” you confirmed. “Wonderful, and warm, and...and  _really_ pretty, fucking hell. You and Prompto both. Cut a girl some slack, will ya?” You laughed.  

Noctis snickered as he dipped you, bringing the waltz to an end. Before he stepped away to bow, he leaned low to your ear. “Whaddaya say you, me, and Prom ditch this joint and go play video games instead?”  

You met his mischievous gaze with a smirk of your own. “Afraid you’re gonna turn into a pumpkin?” 

Noct laughed as he stepped away and bowed, hooking his arm around yours as the two of you walked back to Prompto.  

“So,” said Prompto, as he was lowering his camera. “I was thinking, food, official pictures in the gondola, and then...” 

“And then junk food and video games at my place,” said Noctis, eyes twinkling.  

Prompto’s eyes went wide for a split second before shooting the prince a wicked look. “Dude,” he said. “That is the best idea that you’ve ever had ever.” 

 

Two hours later found the three of you back at Noct’s apartment, formal suits and shoes and dress all strewn haphazardly between Noct’s bedroom and the guest room. Noctis and Prompto had stumbled into the prince’s bathroom first, leaving you to go to the guest bedroom to shower and change. The bottom left drawer of the dresser held a few of your spare lounge clothes, so you were more than eager to pull on a sports bra, sweatpants, and a t-shirt. It took you what felt like forever to take your hair out of its complex updo; but finally, you were out of the hot shower and dressed down. Your hair was washed and dried again, falling loosely around your shoulders. You shuffled out to the living room, where Noctis and Prompto were pressed together on the couch, battling each other in a fighting game.  

You went to the edge of the couch and curled up in the chunky knit throw that you’d gotten Noct as a solstice present, mildly interested in the bloodbath that was on the bright tv screen. You were warm, tired, and happy. You brought your phone from your pocket and began to edit and post dance pictures to your social media.  

Minutes ticked by, and suddenly, you vaguely registered Prompto squished right up next to you, instead of Noctis.  

“You’re so warm,” Prompto muttered as he furiously gripped his controller and button mashed. “Could feel it all the way over there.” His character fell victim to Noct’s super attack and he dropped his hands in defeat as Noctis screamed “Yes!” and pumped his fist in the air. “Aw, dammit. No fair, Noct.” 

“That’s what you get for being distracted,” Noctis teased as the character choice menu popped up again.  

Prompto shrugged and put his head on your shoulder as he idly selected a new fighter. “Had a lot of fun tonight,” he said with a yawn.  

“Don’t yawn, Prom—you'll make me yawn!” Noct followed suit. “Dammit.” He looked to where you were sitting, Prompto pushed up against your side. “Hey, hey. No cuddling without the prince.” 

“Oh my god, you’re so needy,” you laugh. “Well move, Prom, let me sit in the middle if you two are gonna be babies about it.” 

The boys let you shift positions, and then Noctis turned on his tv streaming app, selected one of your favorite anime shows, and the three of you snuggled under the blankets on the couch until you fell asleep, slipping into dreams of each other.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I've been struggling lately. Check out this tumblr post if you have the time.
> 
> https://incinc.tumblr.com/post/187072735418/help-i-guess


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